


A Crown and A Captain

by terreisa



Series: The Swan and Firebird Trilogy [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Pirate Emma Swan, Prince Captain Hook | Killian Jones, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 146,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terreisa/pseuds/terreisa
Summary: Killian is the prince of the small kingdom of Balliolshire and he has been tasked with finding and stopping the pirate captain that has been wreaking havoc on the seas. He's unprepared for the challenges Captain Swan will present. A CS royal Killian/pirate Emma AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published over on fanfic . net and now I'm bringing it over here. Please to enjoy.

She heard the guard’s knock the first time but enjoyed the petty thrill of making him repeat it and then snapping at him in return.

“Enter already. There had better be a compelling reason for you to be interrupting me,” she narrowed her eyes, hiding her glee behind a sneer.

“Yes, your Majesty. Word has reached us that the Tarina Brooke has been sighted sailing towards Balliolshire. With your permission we should be able to overtake her before she reaches its shores,” the guard spoke in a tight, clipped voice but she could smell his unease. It was a rancid stench that rolled off him in waves.

“And where did this information come from? Weeks of nothing and now this?” She strode up to him, her heels clicking satisfactorily across the floor. “Tell me and I might spare your life.”

“The Tarina Brooke has attacked another one of our merchant ships bound for Balliolshire. The crew was found adrift in one of the lifeboats,” the guard’s voice wavered and he closed his eyes against her growing rage. “The pirates looted the vessel and sank it after forcing the crew to surrender.”

“The Tarina Brooke’s captain?” She asked in a lowered voice.

“They say not one of the pirates was addressed as such, your Ma-”

He stopped talking with a gasp, eyes blown open wide as she yanked her hand back out of his chest, his bright red heart pulsing in her fist. His eyes found hers, a plea in their depths.

“I said I might spare your life,” she purred. Clenching her fist she delighted in the way he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes and the ashes of his heart sifted through her fingers. “But you brought me bad news.”

Stepping over the crumpled body of the now dead guard she made her way to the elaborate wrought iron mirror hanging on her wall. She didn’t need the services of the man trapped in it at the moment, instead connecting it with the one she’d placed just outside the reach of her most prized prisoner.

The woman’s wrists were chained to the floor, if she were to stand she’d have to stoop or risk dislocating her shoulders. Her long, dark hair was tangled and matted in places, skin pale having been untouched by sunlight for years, and though her head was bowed she was well aware of the broken spirit that swam in their depths.

“I’ve just received some wonderful news. Soon, I shall achieve what’s been denied to me for too long, my happy ending. Meanwhile you’ll be able to do nothing but watch as I succeed.”

Her prisoner didn’t acknowledge her. If it weren’t for the slight swaying of her head she could have been easily thought asleep. It didn’t matter, for everything she’d been waiting so long for was within her grasp.

“Huntsman!”

The door to her chamber opened immediately to allow a slim, light brown haired, bearded man to enter, causing her to suspect he’d been waiting outside for her anger to subside.

“Yes, your Majesty?” His accent, one not common in the Enchanted Forest, caused his words to slip deliciously into her ears.

“Have my carriage prepared. We leave in the morning.”

“Where are we headed, your Majesty?”

The Huntsman didn’t ask out of curiosity, merely out of the habit to appease her. Not being in possession of one’s heart did that to a person she’d discovered. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but smile as she answered.

“Balliolshire, we have a pirate captain to destroy.”


	2. A Summons

“Your Highness?”

 

“Hmm?” Killian hummed distractedly.

 

“The King requests your presence in his chambers.”

 

Killian looked up from the book he was reading, an epic tale of a man seeking to rid the realms of the purest of evils with the help of a chosen few, into the face of the servant who was addressing him.  He had intended to have the servant return to his father with a deferral but something in the man’s eyes stopped him.  It was a look of fear.

 

“I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Very good sir,” with a slight bow the servant turned and scuttled from the secluded corner of the library Killian had hidden himself in.

 

Balliolshire was a small kingdom with the sea forming three of its borders. As a result most of their diplomatic missions had to be conducted with long voyages to whichever kingdom they were negotiating with.  Camelot, their neighbor and closest ally formed the only land border.  Killian had returned from his most recent deployment only two nights previous and thus the formal summons from his father was not exactly welcome.

 

With a sigh he closed the book after carefully marking his place.  It was a large tome and he had been slowly working through it again, a reward of sorts for once again returning home unharmed and of sound mind.  His elder brother Liam enjoyed ridiculing him for not taking it with him to sea but Killian would do no such thing.  It was the last book his mother had given him before she passed, a sudden illness stealing her life while he was away on a training expedition several years before.  He would rather risk losing a limb than damaging the book, his last memory of her, in any way.

 

Making his way through the castle Killian became slowly aware that all the servants and even some the guards had the same look that he had seen in the messenger’s eyes.  They quickly averted their gaze if they happened to catch his but he saw it nonetheless.  Fear, such pure unadulterated fear that he quickened his steps until he was nearly running through the halls to reach his father’s chambers.

 

The guards posted outside the chambers opened the doors without hesitation.  Only the royal family was allowed inside so quickly, the King’s personal servants and members of his council were otherwise subjected to questioning every time they approached.  Without fail.

 

As he entered the room Killian let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.  Liam was seated across from his father, having come straight from the stables if the riding breeches and slightly disheveled appearance were any indication.  He had looked back as Killian had entered and while the fear wasn’t present in his blue eyes concern and curiosity were.

 

Liam was seven years older and next in line for the crown.  While Killian favored their father in looks, Liam took after their mother.  His face was slightly rounder, his hair was a lighter shade of brown that when left unchecked curled wildly atop his head, and he was half a head taller, something that Liam never let him forget.  They had both inherited their mother’s blue eyes.  Something the lasses throughout the kingdom were endlessly enthralled by.

 

Their father, King Brennan, was pouring over several maps spread out on the great table before him.  He appeared to have aged overnight in Killian’s eyes, the grey spreading out into his dark hair from his temples and lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before Killian had left.  He too had done away with formality, his waistcoat open and flapping as he paced up and down his side of the table.  When he realized Killian had joined them he waved vaguely at the chair beside Liam and Killian walked over giving with an eyeroll, prompting Liam to smirk back.

 

“Holed away in the library again, little brother?” Liam whispered as Killian sat down.

 

“Younger brother,” Killian corrected absentmindedly, also whispering as he watched their father mumbling to himself. “I was as a matter of fact.  What gave me away?”

 

“You look as though you’ve been caught in a squall with how much your hair is in disarray.  Are you quite aware that you appear to have walked across the breadth of the palace looking less than dashing?  Plus your fingers are smudged with ink and we both know you’re not currently trying to woo a fair maiden.  At least not one that our dear father would approve of.” Liam winked causing Killian to blush.

 

“Just because you refuse to move forward with your courtship with the Princess of Glowerhaven doesn’t mean you should begrudge me my freedoms,” Killian griped as he ran his hands through his hair to tamp it down and fix the queue at the nape of his neck.

 

“Freedoms?  If I’m to believe half the gossip floating around the halls then I’d be very shocked to discover a female servant that hasn’t had the pleasure of your company,” Liam wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Honestly, brother, just because you are not the one who will be crowned king does not mean you can take such liberties.  You have a duty to uphold and your reputation is starting to overshadow it.”

 

“My duty is to crown and country, brother, one that I am all too aware of.  You of all people should know that chatter amongst the servants rarely holds the truth,” Killian ground out, flexing his hands on his thighs. “Or have you already forgotten what happened when the envoy from Arendelle overheard such talk?”

 

Liam colored, not from embarrassment but from anger.  Killian marked it as a win for him since Liam was the more level headed of the two of them.  He watched as Liam opened his mouth to retort, ready to respond with equal fervor when the sound of a fist hitting the table brought both of their attention back to their father.

 

“That is quite enough.  From the both of you,” Brennan growled. “We have more pressing issues than Killian’s behavior and your need to antagonize him, Liam.”

 

“Father-”

 

“I do not-”

 

“Silence!” Brennan slammed both hands down on the table, glaring at them. “You are grown men, act like it!”

 

“Apologies, Father.”

 

“I’m sorry, Father.”

 

“I don’t want your apologies, I want your attention focused on the situation at hand and not on your petty nonsense,” Brennan’s eyes burned as he continued to stare at them.

 

It didn’t take Liam shifting in his seat to sit up straight for Killian to realize that something important was about to be discussed.  Their father usually enjoyed watching the banter between him and Liam, sometimes egging one or the other on.  It had been a way for his father to keep from succumbing to the grief of losing his wife, reminding him of the two sons that were very much still alive.  At least that’s what Killian liked to believe.

 

“What’s happened?” Liam asked, voice serious and attentive, the voice of a future ruler.

 

“The Queen has just left,” Brennan said in a low voice, as though he didn’t want to be overheard.  Killian wondered if perhaps that was true.

 

Brennan didn’t need to explain which queen he was referring to.  Only the Queen of Misthaven, the Evil Queen to those not in her favor, was referred to by her title alone.  Her visit, coupled with the fact that Killian was unaware of it, meant that what their father had to say would impact their entire kingdom.

 

“Why are we just finding out about this now?  How did she slip into the castle unnoticed?” Liam’s voice shook with restrained anger, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of his chair.

 

“She came without her usual contingent of guards and pomp through Camelot,” Brennan’s eyes flashed. “You should know that if she wants to be somewhere without notice she will be.  It’s a lesson I thought you would have learned by now Liam.”

 

Liam glared at their father and released his grip on the chair, only to cross his arms petulantly across his chest.  It was no secret to Killian that his brother held no love for the Queen but Liam was careful to not let it be known outside their private chambers.  Killian, while not feeling as passionate, held the same beliefs.  He’d heard enough of Liam’s rants that his own opinion had swayed against the Queen, even if he wasn’t as vocal about it.

 

Their open contention was a continual sticking point between them and their father.  Misthaven was their strongest ally and biggest source of imports and exports, supporting not only their merchants but their navy as well.  While their kingdom had been on good terms with Misthaven while it was under Snow White’s rule it had flourished after the Queen had forced herself back onto the throne.  Their father had gone to great lengths to tie their kingdoms together emerging as Misthaven’s naval forces and forcing them into strained relations with other kingdoms.  Their small kingdom would collapse if the Queen cut ties, a fact that Liam used as a driving point for all his arguments against their alliance.

 

Killian had only one point that he stuck to, one that put him on his father’s side every time and caused Liam to stop talking to him for the rest of the day.  The Queen had magic, powerful dark magic, and they had none.  Not even a proper healer resided in their kingdom, they relied on ones that travelled between their kingdom and Camelot.  He knew that they stood no chance of winning a war, let alone surviving with their hearts uncrushed if they stood up against the Queen.  They had to think about the survival of their people and not bite the hand that fed them.  Liam never failed to pointedly suggest Killian take the crown instead of him as he stormed out of whatever room they were in when Killian reminded them of it.

 

“She appeared in her usual cloud of toxic purple smoke then?” Liam sneered. “Was it in the throne room, the great hall, or your bedchambers this time father?”

 

Killian sucked in a breath as his eyes snapped to his father to watch his reaction.  A dull red flush crawled up Brennan’s neck, where the cords of muscle were twitching in time with his jaw, his shoulders were tense as well, shaking in an effort to control himself.  Looking quickly at Liam showed him to be just as tense, if not more.

 

“That is enough, Liam!” Brennan roared, his eyes flashing. “I will not stand by this impertanence when the future of our kingdom, of our lives, is in her hands!  You will listen, you will agree, and you will hold your tongue.  Am I understood?”

 

Liam was breathing hard, his jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically.  Finally he answered through gritted teeth, “Yes, father.”

 

“Killian?” His father’s eyes had stayed on Liam but his tone was a shade softer.

 

“Aye, father.”

 

“What we are about to discuss will not leave this room.  Even between the two of you.  She has ears everywhere.”

 

All three of them looked around the room, which had no mirrors or even any reflective surfaces.  The windows were covered with heavy tapestries that were only opened during the height of summer, when the temperature in the room was stifling otherwise.  Despite their precautions they knew there was still a chance they were being overheard but they had no choice.  It was either take the chance or fall into a spiral of paranoia.

 

“What is it, Father?  She’s come before with demands but none that require this amount of secrecy,” Killian prodded, knowing Liam wouldn’t.

 

“On your voyage did you hear any word of the pirate ship Tarina Brooke?” Brennan’s gaze finally swung to Killian.

 

“Aye, nothing but rumors of her whereabouts though.  Our captain was sure that she was sailing the seas south of our destination.  The same for when we returned,” he answered, puzzled by the turn the conversation had taken.

 

“Liam?”

 

As a maritime kingdom both Liam and Killian had served with their navy but Liam was its admiral, with only their father outranking him.  He refused to use the title, sticking with Captain when out with the fleet or with their subjects.  Only the most formal lords and ladies of the court called him Admiral, just as they similarly addressed Killian as Lieutenant despite his true rank of captain.  This was, of course, when they weren’t falling over themselves to call them Prince.

 

“No solid reports as of yet.  She’s been sighted south of here as Killian said but the ships from Glowerhaven arrived untouched and unharmed.  As have the small trade ships from the Southern Isles,” Liam leaned forward. “Is that why the Queen was here?  Because of a bunch of pirates?”

 

“Yes,” Brennan answered shortly.

 

“You’re joking?” Killian almost laughed but stopped at the fierce look his father shot him.

 

“The Queen has destroyed entire villages on a whim.  If she’s seeking out this ship in particular there is a damn good reason for it.  Have we had any ships arrive from Misthaven in the last month or two?” Brennan questioned.

 

Liam opened his mouth but stopped short of answering.  He closed it as he thought, then his eyes widened in realization, “No, we haven’t.  It hadn’t even occurred to me that none of their ships have even come close to the patrol area we have set up.  Our ships have made it to Misthaven without problems, aside from a bout of sickness that swept through the crew of the Jewel.  It wasn’t the pox, thank God, but enough to force them to return almost right away.”

 

“Good, good,” Brennan said absentmindedly, back to pouring over the maps in front of him. “Killian, how are the relations with Arendelle?”

 

“Tenuous at best,” Killian answered slowly.

 

He had tried his best to secure better trade contracts with the northern kingdom but their Queen, Elsa, was wary of their alliance with Misthaven and their continual trading with the Southern Isles.  It was Arendelle that he had just returned from, still no closer to reaching a compromise that would benefit both their kingdoms.

 

“Is their trade minister still due to visit next month?”

 

“Aye, Queen Elsa insisted upon it.  She demands better clarity in our trade agreement with the Southern Isles, although she refuses to open trading with them again.  It’s been over thirty years since they had cut all ties with them, the old king and his sons have been overthrown, and I hear they’ve crowned a Queen themselves.  Sounds like the perfect opportunity to start anew,” Killian spouted off, finding himself quoting the Crown Princess Anna.  An optimistic royal, if he’d ever met one, and with a good-hearted considering she had more of a grudge to hold with the Southern Isles than her sister Queen Elsa did.

 

“Will your presence be missed while he’s here?” Brennan pulled a map out from under the others and laid it out in front of him.

 

“Most likely not.  I spent most of my time with Queen Elsa and Princess Anna trying to negotiate from that end while our trade minister worked with theirs.  I actually only saw him at the formal dinners held for my arrival and my departure,” Killian said, wondering if he’d even be able to pick the man out of a crowd.

 

“Good, good.  Liam how close are we to the inspections of the fleet?”

 

“Nearly a month out.  They’ll begin once the Crystal returns from Misthaven and the Amber from Glowerhaven.  We can start with the Jewel once her quarantine is lifted,” Liam said, ticking off his fingers. “The Sapphire and the Opal will follow allowing for some leeway for the other two to return.  From there we’ll have to inspect the smaller ships that are out on patrol as they return from their watch.”

 

“I want you to start the inspection of the Jewel the moment you’ve received clearance from the harbor master.  When it is complete I expect the Jewel to be ready to sail within seventy-two hours.  Delegate the rest of the inspections to Smee to complete,” Brennan tapped idly on the map. “No, Smee will go with you, Turner will take over the inspections.”

 

“All due respect, Father, but we cannot leave the inspections to just anyone.  If you are to send me on whatever mission the Queen has in mind then Killian should remain here and conduct them himself.  He’s fully aware of the procedures and is more than capable of handling them himself,” Liam pushed.

 

“I am quite aware of that but I stand by my decision.  Turner will conduct the inspections in accordance to what the captains and sailors have come to expect.  We do not need to arouse more suspicion than necessary,” Brennan looked up at them and Killian was shocked to see pain in his eyes.

 

“Father?” Killian couldn’t voice his sudden worry, not when his father was looking at him and Liam as if he’d never see them again.

 

“Killian, you are to leave in the morning for Misthaven taking only a single guard with you.  Travel by horseback through Camelot, be sure to be seen along the way and especially once you enter Misthaven.  Make it known you will be enjoying the hospitality of the Queen for an undetermined amount of time.  Do not go to her palace, instead conceal your identity and head towards the docks.

 

“Liam, once the Jewel is ready you and a small, select crew will set sail.  It will be announced that you are on your way to Glowerhaven but taking an indirect route to visit with other kingdoms and to avoid the pirates that are rumored to be sailing about.  You will dock in Misthaven to pay respects to the Queen as you pass through and allow for your brother to join you.  It is from there that the two of you will continue on, pursuing the Tarina Brooke and her captain.  You are to stop them by any means necessary,” Brennan finished grimly.

 

“Father, I do not think it is wise for the both of us to go on this mission.  The Brooke is rumored to have a crew of pirates that have no morals, follow no code.  Even without that risk there are other ships that would find the Jewel a fine prize, Blackbeard has almost commandeered her once before.  Finding the only heirs to our crown not only puts our lives at risk but the lives of the crew as well.  Let Killian remain in Misthaven, or have him captain the Sapphire once she is ready in a month’s time,” Liam shot Killian a glare when he turned to protest. “No, Killian, I am not willing to risk your life as well as mine for the Queen.  We must keep our bloodline going.”

 

“Then you stay behind, since you’re the bloody heir to the throne!” Killian turned to his father, ignoring the slow shake of Brennan’s head. “Father, you know this is madness.  Allow me to captain the Jewel and pursue the Brooke.  Liam can help you find a way to appease the Queen another way.”

 

“There is no other way,” Brennan said defeated, a great sadness seeming to washing over him. “The Queen has made it clear that if we fail our kingdom, our fates, will suffer for it.  If I could trust another captain to succeed then I would send them, I would send the whole fleet if it meant that the both of you would remain unharmed.  We do not have that option.  Liam, Killian, you are not only both the best captains we have but also the only ones I know who will do what must be done.  If not for the Queen then for our kingdom.”

 

A heavy silence followed Brennan’s words.  Killian felt as though he had lost tether with reality.  He had always known that their kingdom wasn’t as strong as others but never had the truth of its fragile state hit him so hard.  A single word from the Queen would be enough to snuff them out, relegate them to nothing but a brief passage in the histories of the land.  Looking over at Liam he knew that his brother had reached the same conclusion.

 

“I would like Thompson to be the guard to accompany me,” Killian stated, not taking his eyes of Liam. “He’s a good man, a fine sailor, and loyal to the kingdom.  He has no family and no wife to concern himself with.”

 

Liam shut his eyes, as if to block out Killian’s statement or to prepare himself for his.  With apparent reluctance Liam opened his eyes to look at Killian, his eyes full of resignation and determination.

 

“If you insist on Thompson then I must insist that Smee be the one to complete the inspections with Turner being the one to sail with us.  Smee has shown troubling signs of disloyalty, if not outright spying.  It was an issue I was going to see to using the inspections as cover but perhaps we can use it to our advantage.  He can be fed the lies and we’ll see where it leads to, a further distraction from our true purpose,” Liam’s mouth formed a grim line as he formed his next statement. “Turner also has no family to speak of.”

 

It was an unspoken agreement made with those suggestions of who would accompany them.  Their mission was a dangerous one.  Their crew would have to be comprised of those who had nothing but their lives to lose.  Killian gave Liam a small nod, an acceptance of their orders and the decision of their fates.

 

“I’ll have Smee be the one to inform both Thompson and Turner of their new orders.  Liam and I will discuss who else is fit for the crew at another time.  You, Killian, will need to prepare for your trip.  Remember, not a word to be spoken.  I’ll see you both at dinner.”

 

The dismissal was clearly evident in Brennan’s voice and Killian stood, already contemplating everything he needed to do in the short amount of time he had before the morning.  He paused when he realized that Liam had remained seated.

 

“Liam?”

 

Killian’s question caused Brennan to look up at them from the maps he had resumed pouring over.

 

“Father, I’m not happy with any of this,” Liam shook his head as he stood, “but I will do my best to bring the captain of the Tarina Brooke to justice.  For our kingdom.”

 

Brennan nodded once and Liam returned it.  Turning on his heel Liam strode towards the doors, Killian following until he fell in step with him.

 

“Well, brother, looks as though we’re finally taking that journey together that we’ve craved since childhood,” Killian murmured. “I always thought we’d be the heroes of the tale though.”

 

“A hero’s journey,” Liam scoffed. “There are no heroes in any of this Killian.  Just do your best to stay alive until I arrive in Misthaven.”

 

“Aye, I will as long as you do the same,” Killian paused as the doors opened in front of them. “Wouldn’t do to have the Princess of Glowerhaven ending up with some lesser prince now would it.”

 

A genuine laugh erupted from Liam as they stepped out of their father’s chambers together.  Killian had much to do and much to consider but he couldn’t deny that he was elated by the chance to go on an adventure with his brother.  One where they just might become heroes in the end.


	3. Setting Sail

Killian looked out over the harbor and wondered if in another life he would still be a sailor.  The weeks spent in the saddle as he made his way to Misthaven had thoroughly convinced him that he was meant for the seas in this life.  Only Thompson’s good humor had kept him from tearing his hair out in frustration, or boredom, Killian wasn’t sure which one outdid the other.  Either way he was sure that no matter what life he was born into he would find his way to the open water.

 

Their progress had been impeded by an invitation from King Arthur to stay at his castle for a ball that was being held as Killian was passing through.  Not wanting to insult Arthur and put any kind of strain on their kingdom’s relationship he had accepted.  Thompson had spent the afternoon leading up to the ball teasing Killian for not thinking to bring a proper outfit for the occasion.  Killian would have laughed if he hadn’t been worried about not being able to make it to Misthaven’s harbor in time to meet the Jewel when it anchored.

 

One advantage of his impromptu stay was his unfettered access to Camelot’s library.  Using the excuse of wanting to familiarize himself with the Queen’s rise to power he was shown to the historical records by the library’s keeper and then left alone.  At first he did just that, read about the Queen’s decades long vendetta against Queen Snow White, the multiple attempts on Queen Snow and her husband James’ life, and the eventual banishment.  All which had happened nearly twenty-seven years earlier, when he was only a small child uncaring of the political strife around him.

 

Before he had realized it he had been in deep into his reading for hours.  It was only when Thompson had appeared at his elbow warning him that the dinner hour was fast approaching that Killian tore himself away.  After reassurances from the librarian that the table he had been at would be untouched he had left, determined to return and continue discovering the path leading to the Queen’s rule.

 

He had had to wait a full day before he was able to slip back into the library, happy to find the books and parchment he’d left behind undisturbed.  With the ball being held that night he had wasted no time and risen before most of the servants to resume his task, knowing the castle would be bustling with so much activity that the lack of his presence would go unnoticed.

 

It wasn’t long before he lost himself in history again.  He idly noted the sixteen years of peace for Misthaven and their allies, Camelot and Balliolshire among them.  For him those years were filled with nothing but memories of lessons and time spent dueling imaginary foes with Liam.  They were also filled with the incessant grooming by their parents and tutors moulding Liam and himself into the proper royal princes they were born to be.  Liam had borne the near torture with grace, Killian had not.

 

Flipping through the book pages and loose sheaves of parchment it was several minutes before he found where the Queen’s tale picked back up.  While she had remained quiet for sixteen years she had apparently not remained idle.  Killian read with horror how she had torn through the kingdom, laying waste to villages and towns that stood against her.  Her assault on Queen Snow’s castle had only lasted a day before it fell.  When the smoke had cleared Queen Snow and Prince James were imprisoned and the Queen had sat herself on the throne of Misthaven.  No one had challenged her rule for the nine years that followed.  Until whispered rumors started spreading of a single pirate ship that dared to attack Misthaven’s merchant vessels.

 

Finally Killian had come across the information he had originally gone to the library for.  What he found was disappointing, to say the least.  Camelot had no borders along the sea, the only notable body of water within it was a large lake, almost large enough to be a sea itself.  As a result any hope he’d had of finding mention of the Tarina Brooke was lost as he almost feverishly scoured the records.  Aside from the brief mention of a pirate ship openly attacking ships under the Queen’s protection there was nothing more.  Killian had growled in frustration, earning a glare from the librarian, and cleaned up after himself in agitated movements.  He had been relieved that the ball was that night, if only for the flowing libations and fanciful lasses that would provide sufficient distraction from his disappointment.

 

As with any ball there were a fair number of people who wanted an introduction with the Prince of Balliolshire.  Killian had borne it all with good grace, only fiddling with the collar of his borrowed finery when he suspected only a few eyes were on him.  For the most part he had stayed on the edges of the crowd, circling around the people as they in turn circled around the dance floor.  His singular dance had been with Queen Guinevere, as custom dictated for visiting royalty.  She had been a fine partner but Killian had been all too aware of suspicious eyes on his back.  It was rumored that King Arthur was prone to jealousy and fits of rage, especially when it came to his Queen, and Killian had declined gracefully when Queen Guinevere had requested another dance.

 

He’d had to endure two more days in Camelot before Thompson agreed they could leave without insulting King Arthur.  On the day before they left he had received a letter from Liam.  To unknowing eyes it carried nothing but banal news from Balliolshire and hopes that the start of inspections on the fleet would begin within a fortnight.  For Killian it read as an assurance that his time in Camelot would not interfere with their plans and that Liam had secured a crew he felt they could trust.  It had been years since they had needed to use the cipher they invented as children but Killian had never forgotten the key to unlocking it.  Apparently neither had Liam.

 

The rest of their journey to Misthaven was uneventful.  Following his father’s orders he made no secret about where he was headed.  It wasn’t long before innkeepers and tavern owners were well aware of his impending arrival days before he showed up.  Thompson was delighted by the extra attention and small luxuries afforded to one travelling with a prince.  Killian was annoyed by the flattery and insincere compliments given for his every move.  He was used to travelling via ship where he spent weeks, if not months, at a time with the same group of people who quickly overlooked his royal status.  They treated him as a man and fellow sailor, not as an idol to be worshipped and praised.

 

As they entered Misthaven’s borders a crow delivered a message to Killian.  While he hadn’t recognized the handwriting both the form of delivery and the wax seal confirmed it had been from the Queen herself.  The missive was short, welcoming him to Misthaven followed by a thinly veiled threat to ensure he remembered the reason for his visit.  She had also assured him that appearances would be kept up that he was her guest.  Killian had wondered at the seemingly good intentions, unable to find the threat behind it.  He had brushed it off, figuring it was just a way to keep him compliant with her own agenda.

 

Thompson had parted ways with him only three days before.  His orders were to go straight to the Queen’s castle and continue their ruse that Killian would soon follow.  Killian in turn had headed towards the docks, as instructed, hoping that his disguise as a humble sailor would hold up.  He wasn’t worried about being recognized by the townsfolk, they had bigger concerns than a visiting dignitary in their midst, but the sailors and navy men roaming the docks would recognize him in a heartbeat.  His likeness was on coins from their kingdom and as a well respected Captain and Prince on the seas he would be a fool to think even the drunkest of men wouldn’t hesitate to look twice.

 

His uniform, riding clothes, and anything marking him as royalty or even marginally wealthy was in the pack set in between his feet.  As he adjusted it Killian wondered how the Queen intended to fool not only her subjects but numerous other lands that he was staying at her castle.  He deduced magic would be involved and shuddered to think of how she would choose to portray him.  With a scoff to himself he was at least comforted by the knowledge that she wasn’t one for grand dinners or formal balls and the chance of the exposure of his hypothetical doppleganger was minimal.

 

“I hope you don’t honestly think your disguise is working, your Highness,” a low voice rumbled from behind him.

 

Killian stiffened in alarm before realizing he recognized the voice.  Without turning around he addressed his companion.

 

“Well, I’d hoped that it would have been enough to prevent you from finding me but, alas, it seems my ruggedly handsome good looks are still your siren’s call,” Killian shot a grin over his shoulder. “Good to see you looking well rested, Thompson.”

 

“Aye, the best night’s sleep can only be achieved under lock and key, with a couple of Black Knights guarding your door, and the feeling of a murderous Queen watching your every move like a hawk.  If she treats her allies in such a manner I shudder to think how she treats her enemies,” Thompson said as he dropped down on a barrel next to the one Killian was perched on.

 

His dark blonde hair was past the length deemed proper for a sailor in the Balliolshire Navy but Thompson wore it well.  His hazel eyes danced with mirth as he looked Killian over, his square jaw working to fight against a smile.

 

“Watch your tongue,” Killian warned. “You may not be under her close watch anymore but she has eyes and ears everywhere.”

 

“Which is how I knew where to find you.  Even if your appearance hadn’t given you away your habits would have.  Honestly, did you think no one would notice the stranger that was keeping close watch on the harbor?  Not to mention your visage has caught the attention of many a young lass,” Thompson shook his head in amusement. “You could have at least smudged some dirt on your face or worn a rag over your hair.”

 

Scowling at Thompson Killian ran a wary hand through his hair.  Aside from using a leather thong to tie back his hair instead of a ribbon he had done nothing to alter it.  He had let his beard grow just enough so that the stubble covered his jaw and upper lip, the reddish tint to his whiskers had thrown him off when he first noticed it.  In all he hadn’t thought that his looks were so remarkable that even in disguise he would be recognizable.

 

“Is it really that obvious?” He asked, suddenly nervous that their mission was compromised before it even truly started.

 

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time,” Thompson said with a laugh. “The Queen’s been keeping close watch on you since we crossed into Misthaven.  Your disguise is pretty good.  I wasn’t kidding about the habit thing though.  You’ve sat here for the past two days not moving from sunrise to sunset.  It’s started to turn some heads.”

 

Looking around the docks slowly and carefully Killian couldn’t pick out one person who seemed to be paying any undue attention to him.  Yet he knew if Thompson was warning him then he should take heed.  They had gone through the academy together and Killian insisted on his presence for every journey he’d made since their graduation.  He trusted Thompson with his life.

 

“Well then, shall we see what the local tavern is serving for midday meal?  I must admit I am tired of eating off the same stale loaf of bread while I’ve been sitting here,” Killian stood and stretched, stiff from the hours he’d already spent perched on an empty barrel.

 

“Absolutely, your Highness,” Thompson agreed happily.

 

“Thompson, I know you’re fighting against a lifetime of propriety, at least in a public setting, but try to remember to call me by the name we agreed upon,” Killian sighed as they made their way towards the center of the town.

 

“Jones?  Don’t like it,” Thompson said with a snort. “Couldn’t come up with anything better during all your hours of waiting?  It’s so boring.”

 

“Exactly,” Killian rolled his eyes, glad they were outside the tavern.  His stomach growled loudly at the scent of roasted meat drifting out the doorway. “If it’s boring no one will bother remembering it.  Right, Jon?”

 

Thompson colored, his cheeks turning ruddy red in color.  Killian fought against a laugh but allowed his grin to stretch wide.  Thompson’s rightful name was always a sore spot for him.  He preferred to be addressed by his mother’s maiden name, not the one bestowed upon him at birth that tied him to his wretch of a father.  Killian was the only one who knew his true lineage, that he had fled Sherwood Forest to escape his father’s shadow and become a better man than his father ever had been.  Jon of Gisbourne had all but died when he entered the Balliolshire Naval Academy, emerging as simply Thompson to all.

 

“I told you never to call me that,” Thompson ground out, glancing over his shoulders in jerky movements. “We’re far too close to Sherwood for my comfort as it is.  No need to announce my presence.”

 

“Ah, not so eager to have your identity known?  What could possibly happen if a couple of people heard who you really are?” Killian looked at him with an arched brow. “Can I trust you won’t make such a mistake again?”

 

“Aye, you arse,” Thompson ceded with a roll of his eyes. “I still think Jones is a rubbish name and now you’ll be saddled with it for who knows how long.”

 

Allowing his laughter to ring out Killian followed the still grumbling Thompson into the tavern.  Nearly all the tables were filled with boisterous, jolly tradesmen and sailors.  Hardly a thought could be heard over the clanking of tankards being set upon the tables and rattle of spoons being dropped into recently cleaned bowls.  With a nod towards the far corner Thompson led the way to the singular empty table, leaving Killian to catch the eye of the barmaid to order their own sets of ale and dinner.

 

When their food arrived Killian practically groaned in relief as the scent of mutton stew wafted towards him.  Thompson snorted into his tankard but wisely kept his mouth shut.  Killian hadn’t been lying when he said he’d been eating stale bread while he watched the mouth of the harbor.  He had neglected to mention that stale bread was all nearly all he had allowed himself to eat since his separation from Thompson.  Luxuriating in full, warm meals was a waste when he was desperate to be reunited with his brother and sailing away from the woman who was causing his kingdom’s turmoil.

 

“The Jewel should be arriving any day now,” Thompson was saying around a mouthful of stew. “The Queen received a report from one of her guards who gladly told me in turn.  Figured I’d join you in escaping this forsaken land, propriety be damned.”

 

“I doubt you would have gotten far if the Queen was at all truly concerned about you.  We’re not her prisoners so this escape you’ve built up in your mind is nonsense.  Need I remind you that even when the Jewel arrives Liam will be spending at least a day or two up at the castle to keep with appearances.”

 

“Yeah, alright, you bloody spoil sport,” Thompson frowned. “We still have to get you on the ship unnoticed and that’ll be quite the challenge.  Perhaps we should find a rag to cover your hair.”

 

“Perhaps we should find one to stuff in your mouth,” Killian said exasperated. “At least then I could finish my meal in peace.”

 

“Shut it, Jones,” he said with a wink that caused Killian to huff in annoyance. “You’re just happy to be talking to someone whom you can trust.  Plus I know how much the Misthaven accent grates on your ears.  At least it does mine.”

 

Killian half listened as Thompson continued with his mild complaints as he himself ate and observed.  No one was watching their corner, a blessing assuaging Killian’s concern that he had indeed been foolish with his disguise.  From what he could tell the tavern was one of the more favored ones in the town.  He had chosen to stay at an inn off the main drag and had subsequently taken his meager meals from there when he returned from the harbor at night.  Furrowing his brow in thought he wondered if perhaps he would have blended in better if he hadn’t attempted to be so furtive in his actions.

 

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of a harried messenger boy.  From the looks of him he had run full tilt to the tavern from wherever his master resided.  Killian couldn’t make out what the boy was saying to the man behind the bar but as suddenly as he appeared he slipped back out the door, on his way to his next stop.  In his wake the barkeep quickly garnered the attention of the barmaids as they passed saying only a few words to them causing each to walk away with a face set in grim anticipation.

 

As their server passed their table Killian stilled her with a firm, yet gentle, hand on her wrist, “What has caused your smile to disappear so effectively, Miss?  Surely the midday rush has reached its peak and nears its end.”

 

The maiden blushed and smiled shyly, “On a normal day t’would but we’ve ‘ad word that a gran’ ship ‘as entered the ‘arbor.  Rumor tells it’s the Crown Prince Liam of Balliolshire stoppin’ on ‘is way to Glowerhaven.  Seein’ as we’re the bes’ tavern near the docks we bes’ be prepared for a hungry crew to stop in.”

 

She gave him a polite bob of the head as she walked away, clearly eager to serve men from a far away land and ones connected to royalty no matter how insubstantial their position might be.  Killian waited a moment, carefully observing the crowd to ensure that they weren’t watching him before he made to stand.  An insistent pressure on his arm prevented him from doing more than lifting himself a few inches from his seat.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Jones,” Thompson said casually, biting off a large chunk of bread. “Ha’ the ‘own ‘ll ‘e ou’ ‘ere.”

 

“I may have told you to address me informally but that does not mean it extends to your table manners, you swine,” Killian said in distaste as he sat back down.

 

“‘orry,” Thompson swallowed, daintily dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, and gave Killian a toothy smile. “I’m just trying to figure out where the boundaries lie and how quickly you’ll revert back to that rebellious youth from the academy.”

 

“According to Liam I’ve not grown beyond that rebel that caused such a stir amongst the Lords and Ladies of the Court.  He caught me in an alcove one time!” Killian seethed, momentarily forgetting his eagerness to return to the docks.

 

“And he’s never let you forget it,” Thompson finished Killian’s thought with a groan. “Just as you’ve reminded me of his obstinance on the subject time and again.  Now, to get back to what I was trying to tell you.  Half the town will be at the docks, not only to get a glimpse at the Prince but also to see the Jewel.  She was meant to arrive six weeks ago and never showed but the tales of her might and majesty remained, only increasing as time passed.  You have been spotted waiting in the harbor for two days straight and if you go running back now as the Jewel enters the harbor then people will really start to become suspicious.  At best you hold an unhealthy affinity for the Jewel, at worst you’re an enemy of the crown sent to assassinate the Crown Prince.  Either way you are an unknown entity that may or may not pose a threat.  Your actions are going to be watched very carefully now, even more so than before.”

 

Killian’s shoulders slumped as he took in Thompson’s words.  In his haste to see the Jewel and be reunited with his brother he cast aside nearly all caution that was necessary to their mission.  It would take only one misstep, one wrong word, and the consequences of his actions would be fatal.  He was watched carefully by Thompson as his impulsiveness was brought to heel and his mind for strategy was allowed to the forefront.

 

“You will return to the castle with as quickly as possible.  With any luck your absence will not have been noted but if it has convince them that you wanted to confirm the Jewel’s arrival with your own eyes,” Killian said, holding up his hand to forestall Thompson’s protests. “You need to do this so you can inform Liam that I will stow away on the Jewel while he attends to the Queen.  Then you will join his retinue when they return to the Jewel to set sail.  This will quell any suspicion that may be cast on you and give Liam assurance that all is going as we planned.”

 

For all his joking Thompson knew when to take a situation seriously.  From the moment Killian had put up his hand he had watched Thompson absorb his instructions and begin planning how to execute the orders.  It was a testament to their long standing relationship as friends, comrades in arms, and subject and ruler that only Thompson only had one question for him.

 

“How do you plan on sneaking aboard the Jewel, your Highness?”

 

Killian ignored Thompson’s slip, there was enough noise in the tavern to cover the sounds of their hushed conversation.

 

“That I shall keep to myself but rest assured I’ll wait until dark to attempt it.  Once I’m on board there should be no alarm raised, the crew is most likely aware that I am to be joining them while they’re here.  Don’t allow Liam to come to the ship until he’s ready to set sail.  It would bring the undue attention we’re trying so hard to avoid.”

 

“When should I return to the castle?”

 

“Now, while the arrival of the Jewel is providing such a perfect distraction,” Killian gestured around him as the crowd in the tavern seemed to swell with anticipation.

 

“And what will you do in the meantime?  Distract yourself with a bit of local charm?” Thompson waggled his eyebrows, breaking the seriousness that had settled over their table.

 

“Perhaps,” Killian answered flatly. “I have to return to the inn where I’ve been staying for the rest of my belongings.  I’ll wait out the fanfare of the Jewel’s arrival there.”

 

“Shame I’ll be enjoying that fanfare first hand instead of watching you pace what is undoubtedly a matchbox sized room in impatience.  However shall I cope?” Thompson clasped his hands over his heart in mock distress.

 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Killian said, rolling his eyes. “Now, go.  If we’re to have any hope of you not being thrown in the Queen’s dungeons you need to return to the castle well ahead of Liam.”

 

Thompson nodded his head in agreement but Killian could still see a hesitance in his eyes.  Their plan was feeble at best, having had no time for proper preparation.  He also knew that Thompson wasn’t thrilled with the fact that Killian hadn’t divulged how he would make his way onto the Jewel.  Killian wasn’t too thrilled by the prospect of what he needed to do either and didn’t want any objections from Thompson to sway his resolve.

 

“Go already, you’re worse than a maiden saying farewell to her sweetheart at the docks,” Killian admonished, satisfied when Thompson stood up scowling. “And Tommy?”

 

Thompson’s scowl softened at the nickname only Killian used, “Yeah, Kil?”

 

“Keep your eyes open...”

 

“...and your mouth shut,” Thompson finished, fingers twitching to complete their ritual with the requisite hand gesture.

 

Killian completed it for him, touching the first two fingers of his left hand to the corner of his eye, then to his closed lips, finally tipping his hand towards Thompson palm side up.  Thompson smiled, winked, and glided through the crowd gathering at the tavern like a thread through the eye of a needle.  He watched as Thompson’s shadow passed by the window and then put him from his mind, he needed to stay focused on what he needed to do.

 

As he stated Killian returned to his room, which was as small as Thompson had guessed.  He packed and then repacked his bag, not that there was much he had taken out during his stay there.  Then he waited, sometimes pacing but mostly sitting on the sagging mattress thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong.

 

At the first shift of the sunlight pouring through his windows Killian gave up waiting until dark had fully fallen.  Dusk was fast approaching and he figured he would be able to spend the remainder of his time on shore back at the tavern Thompson had taken him to.  The thought of warm, edible food spurred him on as he hoisted his pack onto his shoulder and left a few coins on the bedside table.

 

The tavern was even busier for suppertime than it had been earlier in the day.  Killian was relieved and dismayed that he didn’t recognize any of the patrons.  The sailors that had accompanied Liam were most likely in another tavern with a select few joining their Prince at the castle.  A familiar face, even one he wouldn’t be able to acknowledge would have been welcome.

 

Sitting in the back corner once again Killian watched the ebb and flow of the crowd.  Nursing a tankard of ale he waited, all the while wishing the sun would set all the faster for his impatience.  Finally, an hour or so after the sun had finally set, Killian made his way towards the docks to where the Jewel was berthed.

 

Even in the dark the Jewel of the Realm was in impressive sight.  Killian could just make out the yellow, blue, and white paint in the flickering light from the lamps lining the dock.  Her sails were furled but that only made her twin masts all the more imposing in the night.  He felt an urge to run his hand along her side, to somehow forge a physical connection with the land he called home and the kingdom he was determined to save.

 

A quick scan of the ship showed no sign of movement on deck but Killian was not alone on the docks.  Several sailors were walking to and from various ships and there were two men guarding the Jewel’s gang plank.  It wouldn’t have been much for him to reveal his identity and order the men to allow him on the ship but it would have attracted at least one or two curious onlookers who would be happy to spread the tale back in town.  With some regret and a sigh Killian walked on to a section of the docks where there seemed to be nobody around, and thus no one to observe his movements.

 

With a haste that belied his eagerness to execute his plan Killian removed most of his outer clothing and boots, stuffing them into his pack and hoped that his time in the water would be short enough to prevent most of his belongings from becoming soaked.  As he slipped soundlessly into the water he was suddenly aware that although summer was just beginning to wane the waters already felt as though winter was fast approaching.  Within minutes he was fighting to keep his teeth from chattering while his fingers and toes were already numb from the cold.

 

Finally he came upon the starboard side of the Jewel, well hidden from curious gazes from anyone on the docks and alert ones of the guards.  As Killian righted himself to float in place he idly wondered if Liam had warned the crew that he would be secretly making his way on board while they were docked in Misthaven.  Spying a crude rope ladder hanging down from the deck to the water answered his question and had him silently thanking his brother for having the foresight to know exactly what Killian had intended to do.

 

Silently climbing aboard the ship Killian hastily drew the ladder up behind him.  No need to encourage any would-be pirates to take the advantages he had.  Adjusting his pack over his shoulder he quietly stole across the deck, very much aware of the trail of water he was leaving behind him but not caring much as his teeth started to chatter once again.  Assured that the guards on the dock weren’t about to sound an alarm he dropped down into the Captain’s quarters and breathed his first full breath since he’d heard word of the Jewel’s arrival.

 

Liam’s welcoming gestures had extended to a bottle of ale sitting on the Captain’s desk and a neatly folded blanket sitting on the hard backed wooden chair across from the more luxurious leather one on the other side.  Killian shook his head at the implication that he wasn’t allowed to sit in it but let it slide.  After all there was a perfectly serviceable bed at his disposal.  It wasn’t as though Liam would need it for the nights he would be spending at the Queen’s castle.

 

After drying himself off and changing into somewhat drier clothes Killian contemplated heeding his brother and heading down to the crew cabin and commandeering one of the unused bunks that would undoubtedly become his own once they set sail.  Then he spared another glance at the bed and knew his mind had already been made up.  He left the ale untouched, intent on using it as a peace offering when Liam returned to the ship.  With a sigh he burrowed under the blankets and quickly fell into deep, dreamless sleep.

 

“...bloody idiot.  Didn’t even douse the lamp.”

 

Before Killian had a chance to fully wake up he felt a sharp tug on the blanket that was wrapped around him and found himself tumbling to the floor.  On instinct he jumped to his feet and reached for the sword he usually kept by his bedside before he realized that he wasn’t in his bed, let alone his room, and Liam was bent over with his hands on his knees trying not to collapse from his laughter.

 

“What the fuck, Liam?!” Killian yelled.

 

He aimed a punch at Liam’s shoulder but his brother dodged it easily and cuffed him on the back of his head for his troubles.

 

“I should ask the same of you little brother,” Liam danced out of Killian’s reach. “Leaving a mess of ropes on deck, dried saltwater footprints leading to my cabin, a single lamp burning as a beacon to anyone who chanced a look at the Jewel, and you were sleeping in my bed.  I am merely returning your thoughtfulness in kind.”

 

“You’re supposed to be up at the bloody castle appeasing the Queen or kissing her bloody boots or something!  Didn’t Thompson give you my message?” Killian grumbled, past his surprise at his rude awakening and rubbing at the shoulder he had landed bodily on.

 

“He did, along with the impression that you were going to attempt something foolhardy to board the Jewel.  I had Turner return to ensure that you didn’t kill yourself through some inadvertent stupidity,” Liam explained as he dropped into his chair. “He found you in that tavern and followed you to the docks, which he wants you to know you’re a right idiot for not even checking that you were being watched.  We were already on our way back to the Jewel when Turner met us on the road leading to the harbor.”

 

“Why were you headed back already?  I thought the Queen would have wanted to keep you for a day or two at least,” Killian’s pique faded as his curiosity rose. “What’s happened?”

 

“Did you notice anything amiss while you attempted to throttle me?” Liam sighed.

 

“What? No, I was a bit preoccupied at the time,” Killian paused suddenly aware that the ship wasn’t floating on the calm waters of the harbor anymore. “We’re at sea?  Bloody hell, Liam, you could have woken me!”

 

“To what effect?  We needed to be underway as quickly as possible, the crew was already fully aware of the duties and tasks needed to be done.  If I had taken the time to wake you, explain what was happening, and set you to a task we would have lost precious minutes and right now we cannot afford any missteps.  That and you’re much less annoying when you’re dead to the world,” Liam grinned.

 

Killian scoffed, “I was under the impression that you thought me a capable captain, a good sailor, and yet you treat me as nothing more than your  _ little brother _ .”

 

“Your actions tonight proved to me that you are still impulsive, impatient, and show no regard for your own safety despite your previous arguments to keep me from this mission entirely,” Liam said sternly, the steely gaze of their father in his eyes, all trace of humor gone. “Rest assured that I am not treating you as my brother in this moment.  You are a sailor that has jeopardized the safety of this crew and yourself.  You will retire to the crew’s quarters and rejoin us at dawn, ready to follow orders.”

 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Killian snapped, his temper barely restrained. “I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused and will be ready to serve as my Captain and Prince requires of me.”

 

Without pause Killian grabbed his bag from where it was propped against the desk.  He made it across the cabin and wrenched open the door before Liam spoke again.

 

“The Brooke has been spotted only a few days sail from Misthaven.  The Queen encouraged we leave as soon as possible to capitalize on the information.  With any luck we’ll be able to catch them unawares.”

 

Killian refused to turn around, to even acknowledge he’d heard what Liam was telling him, but he paused in the doorway all the same.  His mind churned at what the possibilities of a quick capture of the Brooke’s captain would mean.  They could return to their kingdom, the Queen would be satisfied, the seas would be a safer place but there was still something that niggled at Killian’s mind.  Mainly the singular focus of the Queen on capturing the Brooke’s captain at all costs.

 

“It is good to see you again, brother.  Don’t doubt that.”

 

Nodding at Liam’s parting words Killian left the cabin.  He had much to think about and only a few days to reach a conclusion.


	4. First Impressions

“Do you ever wonder who thought of hardtack?  Who was the bloke that thought ‘hmm we need to come up with a tasteless brick that sailors will have no choice but to eat’.  Even the rats refuse to go near it!”

 

“Have you been spendin’ too much time up in the crow’s nest, Hewitt?  It would seem you’ve gotten a bit too much sun and it’s baked your noodle.”

 

“Aw, leave the kid alone Blakely.  It’s not like she’s wrong about the hardtack.”

 

“I’m not a kid, Johnson, I’m only three years younger than you.”

 

“You’re the youngest on board, that makes you a kid to the rest of us.  Kid.”

 

Killian laughed with the the crew as Hewitt angrily grabbed her plate and left the mess, presumably heading to the galley to finish her duties for the day.  They hadn’t broken into the stores of hardtack yet but all of them had been sailors long enough to almost immediately recall the taste of the flavorless biscuit.  Even Killian couldn’t repress his shudder as he remembered a voyage three years previous where all they’d had left to eat was hardtack before they were able to make it to a friendly port.

 

Despite having left Misthaven almost as soon as they had arrived there were plenty of stores on board to keep the sailors well fed for another few weeks.  Even though Killian felt that Liam was a stubborn ass most of the time he was a gifted captain and commanded his crew accordingly.  It had been a long time since he had last sailed under his brother and even then it had been easy to see the kind of king that Liam would become.  Now instead of seeing a captain who would one day be a ruler Killian saw a king who was biding his time as a captain.  The image was one he was having a hard time reconciling to himself.

 

They had always been close, even with the seven years separating them.  When Liam had left for the academy when he turned fifteen Killian had sulked around the castle for weeks.  It wasn’t until Liam sent the first of many letters that he had snapped out of it.  They had kept up their correspondence over the years, even when Killian had started at the academy as well, harkening back to the time they had spent passing notes behind their tutor’s backs.

 

Yet something had shifted in the recent years.  As Killian had been sent on more and more diplomatic missions Liam had been practically shuttered in the castle, shadowing their father as he learned how to rule their kingdom.  The spring after their mother had passed was the last time Liam had gone out on an extended voyage.  It had also been the first time Killian had spent only a month all told over the course of a year within the borders of his homeland.  Their grief had manifested in drastically opposite ways, driving a small but distinctive wedge between them.

 

They had still written to each other but the letters had become filled more and more with news and figures from Balliolshire and the kingdoms Killian was visiting and less with details from their personal lives.  Killian had been on an extended tour of the Southern Isles when he learned that Liam was courting Princess Margaret of Glowerhaven.  Thompson had been the one to tell him.

 

He, therefore, wasn’t surprised that following their fight on his first night on the Jewel Liam hadn’t said anything more than orders to him.  In turn he hadn’t uttered more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ in return.  It was petty and childish but he didn’t see Liam going out of his way to act like an adult either so he figured he’d wait it out a while longer.

 

“Your Highness?”

 

Killian looked up to see Hewitt standing at this elbow.

 

“Aye?”

 

“The Captain would like to see you in his quarters.”

 

Hewitt smiled, as though a personal audience with Liam was an exciting thing.  To anyone other than Killian it probably was.

 

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Yes, sir.  Oh, you’re to be there as well Thompson.”

 

Killian turned back to his plate suddenly finding the rest of his meal unappetizing.  He wasn’t prepared to be yelled at some more or worse, lectured about his duties to the crown.  Turner had been keeping that theme going every time their duties put them within close proximity of each other.  Where Killian had Thompson, Liam had Turner and while Liam was his older brother by blood Turner was his older brother simply through incessant lecturing.  It was maddening to be sailing with the both of them.

 

“Great, that means Turner will be there and I’ll have to listen to yet another lecture that might in appearance be for you but somehow it ends up including me as well.  Can’t you just talk to Liam about whatever it is that crawled up his arse and apologize for whatever idiotic thing you did now?  I don’t think I’ll be able to hold my tongue if Turner starts droning on again,” Thompson grumbled across the table from him.

 

“You do remember that Turner is above you in rank, right?” Killian asked bemused.

 

“As are you,  _ sir _ ,” Thompson dipped his head in a mock bow. “Doesn’t stop me from knocking sense into you every once in awhile.”

 

“Liam would have you knocking it in a bit harder, or more often,” he rolled his eyes, pushing his plate away from him.

 

“Ah, so we’ve reached the heart of the matter,” Thompson said gleefully. “Is it about your idiotic plan to get on board the Jewel?  If I had known you planned to swim in the bloody harbor I would have stopped you.  Or at least made sure I was the one to cover your ass if only to spare myself from Turner’s litany.”

 

“You did what you were ordered to do, Turner shouldn’t be admonishing you for that.  If anything he should be singing your praises for letting Liam know I was doing something idiotic in the first place,” Killian said standing up reluctantly.

 

“So you agree?” Thompson asked as he stood up as well.

 

“With what?”

 

“That what you did was idiotic.”

 

Killian opened his mouth to argue and then promptly shut it because Thompson had him there.  He knew what he had done was stupid and reckless, even while he was doing it.  It had been the whole reason why he hadn’t told Thompson what his plan was.  Being yelled at about it and then admitting that Liam was right was something his pride was having a hard time accepting.

 

“Come on, Prince Stick Up His Arse and Sir I Told You So are waiting,” he said instead of answering.

 

Entering Liam’s quarters Killian was surprised by how untidy it was.  The multitude of charts across the desk was par for the course but seeing them draped across the chairs and even some seemingly forgotten on the floor stunned him.  The bed was made but Killian could see that Liam had either sat or lain down on it at some point and neglected to straighten the blankets back out.  Worst of all Liam was pacing behind his desk hair in disarray, vest halfway unbuttoned, and if Turner wasn’t there Killian knew the boots would have gone by the wayside.  It was like stepping back into Liam’s room at the academy and he was studying for a particularly vicious exam.

 

“Close the door,” Liam muttered barely looking up at their entrance.

 

Thompson shot him a worried look but Killian just shook his head and did as he was told.  He had suffered through enough of Liam’s strategizing oddities that once the door was closed he simply crossed to a somewhat empty chair and cleared it off before sitting down.  Turner was in the chair next to him looking idly over what looked like an old captain’s log.

 

“We’ll be reaching the port of Tuiscint in a few hours.  We’ll anchor outside the harbor, hopefully out of sight but still able to head off the Brooke in case they try to escape.  Unfortunately the tide will be against us when we arrive, we’ll have to wait until the morning to send scouts into the village,” Liam ran his hand through his hair for what had to be the hundredth time by the state of it.

 

“It’s probably for the best, sir.  We may not have been at sea for long but I wouldn’t doubt sending men into the village at night would just encourage them to visit the nearest tavern forgoing their duty,” Turner said drolly, glancing sideways at Killian.

 

“You act as though our men are a bunch of low life pirates instead of highly trained sailors in His Majesty’s Navy,” Thompson said in an offended tone, finally stepping fully into the room. “I for one think waiting until the morning is ideal for more strategic reasons.  It’s less suspicious for a group of strangers to arrive in the light of day than under the cover of dark.”

 

“Agreed,” Liam said, forestalling whatever Turner was about to say. “Killian, you and five others will go ashore at first light.  You are to scout the town for any sign of the Brooke’s captain or her crew.  Do not engage, just observe.  If the rumors are true then the Captain will have no qualms incapacitating you or worse.  His crew may be no better.”

 

“Am I free to choose the men that will accompany me or have you chosen for me?” Killian asked.

 

“I’m assuming Thompson will join you-”

 

“Damn, right I will,” Thompson muttered, coloring when Liam flashed a look at him.

 

“As will Turner.  The other three you can choose at your discretion,” Liam paused knowing Killian would protest but he remained silent. “Your nightly duties and those of the persons you choose will be handled by others so you can explain and plan for tomorrow.  Turner, Thompson you are dismissed for now.  Killian will be using my quarters for your mission planning but first I need to have a word with him.”

 

Turner made to protest but kept his silence when Liam once again stopped him.  Thompson merely shrugged his shoulders and turned on his heel.  He started whistling a jaunty tune, one that had Turner’s jaw clenching as they both left the cabin.  Killian sighed at Thompson’s goading of Turner and in order to steel himself for what was bound to be an awkward conversation.

 

“Daniel thinks I’m going to yell at you some more,” Liam said casually, nodding at the closed door. “I’m sure he’s right on the other side trying in vain to listen in.”

 

“Thompson is probably grateful he’s preoccupied.  He’s been on the receiving end of a number of Turner’s ramblings these past few days,” Killian matched his brother’s easy tone but was wary all the same.

 

“Aye, Daniel never did approve of Thompson’s cavalier attitude towards the difference in his position to ours.  I don’t think he fully understands that while Thompson has seemingly done away with all propriety he respects the crown just as much as he does, if not more.”

 

Killian sat back stunned.  Liam hadn’t been as vocal as Turner but Killian had always thought that his brother disapproved of Thompson just as much.

 

“Do you know what Father told me before I left?” Liam asked breaking into Killian’s thoughts.

 

“To keep an eye on me and keep me in line?” Killian sighed rolling his eyes. “The same thing he’s said to you for years?  I feel like nobody realizes I’m a grown man nearing thirty years of age and not the young lad of twelve leaving home for the first time.”

 

“No,” Liam said shortly. “He told me that Mother would be proud of the men her sons had become, that he was proud of us.  Killian, I underestimated how dire our situation is, not as royalty or leaders but as mortal men.  It was as though Father was saying goodbye because our fate has already been decided.  No matter how this mission ends we will be at the mercy of the Queen and her whims.

 

“When Thompson told me of your plan it brought such fear to my heart that it took all of my willpower not to abandon the group I was travelling with and haul your sorry ass out of the water myself.  To attempt something like that was foolish but to do it within the borders of the one thing threatening our lives was insanity.  I admit that my reaction was extreme but you cannot fault me for behaving so after everything we have come to understand.  I’ve survived the death of our mother I don’t think I could do the same if it were you.”

 

Words were lost to Killian.  They had never been ones to talk about emotions or feelings and Killian had never doubted the depths of their brotherly love but to hear Liam talk about it so openly was jarring.  He wondered if the feeling of becoming unmoored and at the whims of fate were what Liam had felt when their father had said his parting words to him.

 

“Liam, I...” Killian swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. “You know I would follow you to the ends of the earth.  Not because you will be my king but because you are my brother.”

 

Liam looked taken aback, as though he had expected Killian to dismiss what he had said.  Killian shrugged almost apologetically but it had been too long since he’d had any kind of heart to heart with his brother, he wasn’t going to be the one to break the congenial silence they had found themselves in.  It wasn’t until they heard a muffled shuffling outside the door and harsh whispers that they simultaneously remembered what needed to be done.

 

“Well, Turner’s and Thompson’s impatience is all the indication I need to return to my duties as captain,” Liam stood and Killian watched as the mantle of leader settled back on his shoulders. “I shall leave you to it then, little brother.”

 

“Younger brother,” Killian corrected, standing as well. “Send those two in and if you run into Hewitt send her along.  She’s been getting a bit of grief from the others about her age, figure I’d show them that sometimes being younger has an advantage.”

 

“Anyone else you would like to extend an invitation to?” Liam asked with a smirk. “Perhaps Smith, he’s been complaining about being stuck in the galley or Yardley she seems a bit aggrieved by the weather lately.”

 

“Ha, bloody, ha.  Hewitt will do for now, we’ll discuss our other options as we plan,” Killian circled the desk and began to look over the charts Liam had left behind.

 

“Aye,” Liam laughed, buttoning his vest and trying in vain to tamp down his curls. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

 

As Liam opened the door Thompson and Turner practically fell in confirming Killian’s suspicion that they had been practically plastered on the door to listen in.  Turner immediately righted himself, ears a burning crimson, while Thompson slowly picked himself up with a wide grin and a wink.

 

“I think Hewitt will be an excellent addition, sir,” Thompson said, addressing Liam. “She’s quite good in a fight.”

 

“I’m aware of that Thompson, thank you,” Liam grinned rubbing his chin ruefully. “Turner I expect you to keep them somewhat on task.”

 

“I shall try my best, Your Highness,” Turner bowed deeply as Liam exited the room. “Shall we proceed?”

 

They had planned well into the night, filling out their ranks with the sailors they felt could not only handle themselves but also keep their mouths shut.  The Jewel had anchored outside the harbor of Tuiscint as they were discussing the final arrangements for the morning.  Killian had dismissed the others so they could get a few hours rest before they went ashore and followed them shortly after.

 

With the first light of dawn brightening the horizon they had gone ashore, rowing past the village fishermen on their way out of the harbor to earn their living.  After a few fruitless hours of walking through the village Hewitt suggested they break for a meal and Killian had agreed reluctantly.  As they finished eating he looked around at the group and reached an uneasy conclusion.

 

“We need to split up.”

 

The protests immediately started and he let them get out their grievances, Turner being the most vocal of them all.

 

“It makes the most sense,” Hewitt answered before Killian had the chance. “We’re a group of strangers stomping up to their homes and into their shops without actually saying what we’re looking for.  We’ll have a better chance of getting people to talk if we move around in groups of two, plus we’ll cover more ground.”

 

“I agree with Hewitt,” Killian said before the protests could begin again. “We don’t have much time before the crew of the Brooke gets word that strangers are in town and if their captain has half a brain he will know we’re here for him. Hewitt, you’ll be with me we’ll head towards the outer edges of the village, Turner with Bilson at the docks, and Thompson and Shaw will keep going into shops and talking with villagers.  Stick to the plan otherwise, if you find the captain or any of the Brooke’s crew only engage as a last resort.  If you don’t find any sign of them meet back at the docks at sunset and we’ll return to the Jewel for further instruction.  Dismissed.”

 

He could see Turner wanting to try and persuade him otherwise but Thompson appeared in front of him first with a look of worry.  Killian nodded for the others to do as they were ordered and turned to Thompson.

 

“Out with it, you think this is another dumb move on my part,” Killian sighed.

 

“No, it’s actually a solid plan, one we should have thought of last night in fact,” Thompson ruminated. “I just don’t understand why you’re going out there with Hewitt by your side instead of me.  Seems like a lousy way to repay me.”

 

“Repay you?”

 

“Aye,” Thompson said inspecting his nails. “I’ve saved your hide more often than not.  You’ll end up finding yourself at the wrong end of a sword without me, mark my words.”

 

“If you hadn’t noticed I paired each of the junior officers with Turner, you, and I.  It’s not because I prefer her company over yours, even though she talks far less, but because we’re beholden to maintaining their safety above all else.  Even capturing the Brooke’s captain,” Killian clapped Thompson on the shoulder. “Besides I’ve seen the way you look at Hewitt, figured I’d talk you up while we’re out from under your doey eyed stare.”

 

Thompson blushed and Killian grinned widely.  Before Thompson could refute his claim Killian walked out of the tavern and down the road leading out of the village center.  He knew Hewitt would follow but looked back anyway to see Thompson stepping outside with a scowl aimed in his direction.  With a laugh he slowed and allowed Hewitt to catch up with him.

 

They made it to the outskirts of the village in under an hour.  While the village itself wasn’t large there were plenty of people they had encountered along the way and they had stopped to talk to nearly every one of them.  Hewitt had more success than he did at getting the villagers to at least take the time to answer their questions but more often than not they merely shook their heads and went about their day.

 

“This is hopeless.  Either they don’t know anything or don’t care enough to share it if they did.  You’d think they’d be happy to hand over a pirate,” Hewitt groaned as she sat down on a roughly hewn bench at an equally roughly hewn table.

 

“Some would be but most people are happy not to stir the pot, especially if said pirate has been bringing in much needed gold to their village,” Killian pointed out as he sat down across from her.

 

“Hmph,” she grumbled as she looked around them.

 

It was clear that there was no further that they needed to go.  The table they were sitting at was seemingly part of an abandoned inn, the sign for it hanging pathetically from one corner above the door that had a locked chain wrapped around the handle.  They were on a slight slope, one that put them slightly above the village that Killian could see a fair distance behind Hewitt.  At his back were nothing but grassy fields that led into a wood, the least likely place to find a sailor let alone a pirate captain.

 

“Do you think there might be a well behind the inn?” Hewitt asked hopefully, craning her neck to look over her shoulder at the forlorn building to her right.

 

“There is.  I saw it while I was looking around,” he scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder what caused the owners to close their doors.”

 

“Failure to pay their taxes,” Hewitt answered immediately. “It was posted on the door.  I read it while you inspected the stable.”

 

“Pity, I’m sure this was a proud establishment before-”

 

“Before they lost everything,” Hewitt whispered.  She sucked in a breath before looking up at Killian, her eyes too bright,  “I’ll just go see about that water then, shall I?”

 

She was rounding the corner of the inn before Killian could even begin to wonder what she could have meant.  It wasn’t uncommon, that a fellow sailor or servant would reveal something personal to him because he never acted like royalty around them.  Then when they remembered that he was their prince they shut down.  He hated that he could do nothing to earn their complete trust even when he had their unwavering loyalty.

 

“Your sweetheart seemed upset,” a female voice said from behind him.

 

“I assure you a sweetheart she is not and she is also not mine,” Killian retorted as he turned around.

 

The flirty grin he had plastered on his face melted into something akin to awe as he took in the woman who had addressed him.  He had been intending to use his tried and true method of charming the information out of her but with one look all thoughts had turned to a low buzz in his head.

 

She was a young woman, near his own age if he had to hazard a guess.  Her long, wavy blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail but it hadn’t prevented several tendrils from escaping and framing her face.  While her dress wasn’t scandalous it also wasn’t typical of the maidens he had seen throughout his scouting of the village.  She was wearing a white linen shirt with dark blue leather vest over it that was cinched at the waist with a scabbard and sword hanging from it.  Her trousers were the same color as her vest and tucked into supple black leather boots.  Even her hands were encased in leather, brown this time, leaving him wondering if her skin was as pale as her complexion seemed to suggest.

 

Yet, for all of that it was her eyes that had arrested his thoughts so suddenly.  They were glittering emerald in color, similar to a ring that his mother had worn when she was alive.  He could see caution in them and curiosity but most of all amusement.  As if she had heard a particularly entertaining joke and was just waiting for him to understand the punchline.

 

“Pity, although I’m sure it wasn’t from lack of effort on your part.” She said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“What makes you so sure I’ve extended my best effort?” he asked, intrigued as she approached the table.

 

“You don’t seem the type to give up so easily where a maiden is concerned,” she said flippantly as she sat down in the spot that Hewitt had recently vacated. “I’d say you’re used to women practically falling over themselves to be on your arm.”

 

“Ah, but only the ones that tempt more than just my eye earn that place of honor,” Killian raised his brow and licked his lips. “I have a feeling you have what it takes in spades, love.”

 

“That and more, sailor,” she said breathily as she leaned closer to him over the table.

 

Killian knew he had a mission to focus on, that there were more pressing matters than flirting with a gorgeous woman but he couldn’t think much past the way she was looking at him, how he could feel the warmth of her hand on his wrist even through her glove.  Something she said, however, caused a small warning bell to start ringing in his head.

 

A movement at the corner of the inn caught his eye and he turned towards it expecting Hewitt to be walking towards him with a full water skein.  Instead he saw a brown haired man with a red bandana around his neck making his way over to the table.  Killian was immediately on alert because if Hewitt wasn’t walking beside the man then she had been incapacitated in some way.  Before he could unsheathe his sword he felt a hand pull his head back by his hair to expose his neck to the blade that had found its way under his chin.

 

“I thought I’d have a bit more time to wheedle out your purpose sailor but I could see the cogs start turning in that pretty little head of yours,” the woman said jovially in his ear.

 

She increased the pressure on the dagger and tugged on his hair, forcing him to stand slowly with his arms raised in supplication.  The man with the kerchief watched in amusement as the threat of a cut moved from Killian’s neck to the small of his back.  With his arms still raised the woman prodded him forward towards a large oak tree set slightly back from the road, enough so that it couldn’t easily be seen by passerby.

 

“Turn around and put your back up against the tree like a good boy,” she ordered. “My friend and I are pretty quick on our feet and even quicker with a blade so I wouldn’t think of trying to escape.”

 

Killian scowled and did as she said.  As he turned she pulled his sword from its scabbard and used that to pin him against the trunk.  Without a word her companion pulled a length of rope from the satchel at his side and began to tie Killian down.  Paying no mind to the man tightening his restraints he glared malevolently at the woman standing in front of him.  Her eyes were glittering in amusement again, now that he had figured out the joke.

 

“Who are you?” She asked as soon as the final knot was secured.

 

“Who are you?” He parroted back, voice calm despite the rage roiling through him.

 

“Oh, I don’t think you understand how this is going to work.  I ask the questions, you answer them and then maybe I’ll let you live once I’m satisfied,” she lowered the tip of his sword to the ground, leaning on it like a cane. “Who are you?”

 

He kept his mouth shut but watched carefully as she studied him in return.  She had the bearing of someone who spent many months at sea, feet set wide apart as if to brace herself against the rolling motion of the water when standing on deck.  Her cheeks were dusted with freckles, lips chapped, nose slightly pink, all sure signs that she was often exposed to the sun.  There was something more to her that intrigued him.  Her proud contenance, the way she held her shoulders, even the way she tilted her head to puzzle him out spoke of an upbringing far above one expected of a pirate, for he was sure who he was facing and the caution with which he would need to proceed.

 

“One last time, sailor, who are you?”

 

“No one of consequence but you on the other hand, you are far more important than I’ll ever be,” he grinned careful not to let his derision seep through.

 

“What are you talking about,” she asked flippantly but Killian saw her shifting almost imperceptibly back and forth on her feet, a sure sign she was nervous.

 

“I do believe I’m in the presence of the pirates from the Tarina Brooke.  Forgive me for not realizing it sooner, Captain,” he dipped his head, the only part of him free to move, in a mocking bow.

 

“How?” Her eyes were wide and he could see her resisting the urge to glance back at her companion.

 

“You’re something of an open book, love,” he drawled. “Question is why did offend the Queen so thoroughly that she’d send the fastest ship in all the realms to stop you.  The Jewel is positioned outside the harbor to prevent your escape, at least by sea.  There are others beside myself to stop you on land.  Forgive me if being tied to a tree doesn’t quite inspire me to give up my name.”

 

“I could run you through with your sword,” she growled, swinging the tip up so it was level with his sternum.

 

“You could,” Killian agreed, “but you won’t.”

 

“And what makes you think that?”  She stepped closer to him, the point of his sword now a hairsbreadth away from his chest.

 

“Because you would have done it the moment I revealed that I knew who I had the pleasure of being interrogated by,” he winked. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to answer a question of my own.  How did you know I was a sailor?”

 

“Aside from the uniform I can clearly see under that ill fitting robe?” She stepped up to him, letting the sword drop to her side again.  Reaching behind his head he felt her grasp the hair that was in a queue at the base of his skull, and tugged it sharply.  His head fell back against the tree and he felt her breath ghost across his ear as she murmured lowly to him. “No one but a highly ranked naval officer wears their hair in this ridiculous ponytail.”

 

She released his hair and stepped back, a smirk on her lips but her eyes wary.  He was glad to see she was rattled but he was in no position to goad her further.  No one would be expecting him and Hewitt to return to the docks for hours and he had no idea if Hewitt was merely tied up as he was or knocked unconscious as well.

 

“So what are you going to do with me, Captain?” Killian asked hoping to stall for time or, even better, be taken as a prisoner and led to the Brooke.  It would be easy to alert Turner or Bilson if they headed towards the docks or anyone else if they neared the village at all.

 

“I was planning on taking you back to my ship, figured I’d get at least a hefty payment if I ransomed you off,” she said thoughtfully, starting a slow pace in front of him. “Can’t do that now if the Jewel of the Realm really is lying in wait.  Although I might be able to use you as a bargaining chip instead.  Your freedom for mine.”

 

“No honor among thieves then?” Killian sneered.

 

“I’m a pirate, not a thief” she corrected with a grin.  She turned to face the man standing steady behind her, “Pinocchio, head back to the Brooke and alert the crew that we sail as soon as I step on board.  Anyone who isn’t there before me gets left behind.  Understood?”

 

“Yes, Captain,”Pinocchio answered, immediately turning and running back towards the village.

 

“I don’t know whether to be honored or insulted, love,” Killian remarked as the man rounded a bend in the road and was no longer in sight.

 

“By what?” She turned around and regarded him warily.

 

“That you think you can handle me by yourself,” he raised his eyebrow and let his eyes travel the length of her body. “Before you untie me and I make my daring escape I think you should tell me your name.  It’s only fair I know exactly who I’ll be taking to the brig of the Jewel.”

 

She had scowled at his insinuation that she was incapable of dealing with him and at his leer.  He knew he was playing with fire since she could easily slice him open for his impertinence.  What he wasn’t expecting was the slow, sensual smile that was gracing her lips.

 

“Oh, I won’t be going to the brig, of the Jewel or of any ship, and I certainly won’t be untying you,” she purred as she stepped towards him again, this time allowing her hand to trail over the ropes around his midsection. “You’ve already provided me with everything I needed to know.”

 

“What?” He stuttered trying frantically to figure out what he might have let slip out but his brain was focused on the slow drag of her fingers that were now at the base of his neck.

 

“I’m not the only one who’s an open book, sailor,” she fluttered her eyelashes at him. Then stepped back abruptly, her voice steel, “And you can call me Captain Swan.”

 

There was only a brief glimpse of the descending arc of the butt of his sword towards his temple and the vicious grin on Captain Swan’s face before Killian’s world went black.


	5. Truth In A Bottle

Killian’s knuckles were bleeding.  He looked down at them in detached interest and then plunged his hand holding the bristled brush back into the cold water, wincing as the open wounds stung on contact.  His work on the deck was nearly complete for the day so he kept at it, pushing himself through the exhaustion and pain to ensure that when he fell into his bunk later that night his sleep would be dreamless.

 

It had been nearly three months since his humiliating run in with Captain Swan.  He had awoken to Hewitt frantically calling out his name and pulling fruitlessly on the ropes that had bound him.  Once he assured her he wasn’t going to die anytime soon she had disappeared to find something to cut through the ropes and he was already constructing a lie to hide the truth of what had happened.

 

The man with the red kerchief had walked straight out of the woods behind the inn and had said nothing to her, Hewitt had explained as she hacked at the ropes with a blunt axe.  He had overpowered her, she said, knocking her unconscious with a rock and she had woken up hands bound behind her but free to move.  She had been able to undo her own restraints quickly but her panic at seeing an inert Killian tied to the tree had affected her usual dexterity with knots.

 

When they had stopped to rest at the abandoned inn it had been early afternoon, the sun had just been beginning its slow arc back towards the earth.  By the time Hewitt had freed Killian it was well past the time they were meant to meet the others back at the docks.  Killian had been able to brush aside Hewitt’s questions as they hurried back to the village.  He hadn’t decided what he was going to say, the truth or a mere shade of it.

 

Their appearance at the docks was met with shock and dismay.  Hewitt had neglected to tell Killian that there was blood matting down his hair and dried down the side of his face from where he had been struck.  Just as he had not told her of the knot the size of a fist on the back of her head.  Turner had almost had a heart attack at the sight of them, his face had drained of all color and a vein jumped erratically in his neck.  Thompson hadn’t been much better off from the ticking Killian had seen in his jaw, a sign he had been clenching his teeth to keep from striking Killian himself.

 

Bilson had been the one to break the rest of the bad news.  He and Turner had been combing the docks, as ordered, when they noticed a small increase in foot traffic heading towards a part of the harbor they had yet to explore.  It hadn’t been much, at least not so out of the ordinary that they thought it worth checking out.  The realization of what it had been had come later.  They had overheard a shopkeeper bemoaning the fact that the village was no longer going to be flush with gold.  When Turner had questioned the man he had shrugged and said the crew of the Brooke had departed suddenly and taken the gold they spent with them.

 

Killian had cursed a blue streak and ordered them back to the boat they had arrived in.  As they returned to the Jewel he questioned them all about what they had seen, if anyone had stood out as suspicious, and if they had caught a glimpse of the captain.  No one could answer any of his questions for sure, their answers had been frustrating and relieving simultaneously.  The worst of it was Turner and Bilson had seen no ship leaving the harbor and even though they checked every slip and carefully watched every ship at anchor none had appeared to be the Brooke.

 

Despite the blood caked to the side of his face Liam had demanded a full report as soon as they returned to the Jewel.  Killian had told him everything, their fruitless efforts at first, the decision to split up, where he and Hewitt had found themselves when they had been tricked by Captain Swan and the man in the red kerchief.  As he had related the facts he kept one thing to himself, a truth that would have made no difference to Liam but to Killian it meant everything.  He had never mentioned that Captain Swan was a woman.

 

It wasn’t that he was ashamed that he had been bested by a woman.  Every sailor knew that a female pirate was just as ruthless as their male counterparts, sometimes even more so.  The tales of Captain Milah of the Jolly Roger were still told at portside taverns centuries after she had last sailed the seas.  The truth of it was he was disappointed that he had fallen victim to the oldest trick on both land and sea, the beguiling beauty of a woman who knew how to wield it as a weapon.  How many times had he heard tales of mermaids and sirens, thinly veiled warnings to be cautious of beauty that hid a cunning mind and he had fallen for it without a second thought.

 

He had only felt a passing guilt at keeping it from Liam but they’d had more pressing issues.  Liam had ordered that they remain at Tuiscint until the following morning on the off chance that the Brooke would make their escape under the cover of darkness.  When the dawn broke the next day it was clear that they had missed their chance, the Brooke was gone.  They had stayed long enough to resupply and question anyone that might have had an idea of where the Brooke was headed before setting sail again.

 

For the months that followed they had sailed from port to port, stopping only long enough to question the harbormaster and bolster their stores.  Tempers had started to fray, tensions between friends had grown, and Killian had vowed to make Captain Swan pay for making a fool of him.

 

“Between you and Thompson I do believe that the Jewel has never been in such good shape,” Liam’s voice drifted down from where he was standing above Killian.

 

“What do you want Liam?” Killian sighed, dropping his brush into the bucket and sitting back on his haunches to look up at him.

 

“Aside from another attempt at trying to wheedle out exactly what happened back at Tuiscint that’s plagued both you and Thompson?  I’m here to inform you that we’ll be arriving in Senlikli soon and when we do I’ll be granting the crew an extended shore leave,” Liam answered leaning against the rail.

 

“Thompson did no wrong in Tuiscint,” Killian murmured, then shot to his feet aggravated as he processed what Liam had said. “Why are you granting shore leave?  We have no time to waste at some lousy port when we should continue our pursuit of the Brooke!”

 

“First of all Senlikli is far more than some lousy port, it’s the largest one in of the Kingdom of Corona aside from the capital.  Second, what pursuit?  We’ve heard even less than a whisper as to where the Brooke may be.  We’re sailing aimlessly and the crew knows it.  They’re ready to tear each other apart or worse mutiny and leave us to suffer our fates,” Liam straightened and poked Killian in the chest. “Third, and as much as it pains me to say it, you need to blow off some steam.  I don’t care if it’s in some back alley fight or with a more than willing lass, hell even a night of drinking yourself blind would satisfy me.  Whatever it is that has you drawn tighter than a bow string needs to be expended before I’ll allow you back on this ship.”

 

For a moment Killian almost came clean.  Liam’s concern was palpable and had only grown the further they had sailed from Tuiscint and the longer that Killian had held on to his secret.  Then he remembered his promise to himself and steered the conversation in another direction.

 

“What did you mean about Thompson?  He’s told me nothing of his troubles and I’ve seen nothing to indicate that he even has any,” Killian looked across the deck and noticed that his friend was nowhere in sight.

 

“He’s been silently punishing himself almost as rigorously as you have.  Although I have a slightly better handle on what is bothering him than what has been bothering you,” Liam gave him a shrewd look. “You honestly had no idea about that?  Captain Swan must have really done a number on you!”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Killian fought against the blush threatening to stain his cheeks schooling his features into a scowl and hoping Liam thought the heightened color was from anger instead of embarrassment.

 

“I’m not an idiot, little brother,” Liam said with a laugh, once again leaning on the rail. “Despite the report you gave me and the numerous denials that you left something out I know Captain Swan did something to piss you off so thoroughly that it’s trapped you inside that head of yours.  I was waiting for you to tell me on your own and I will do that still but perhaps a heart to heart with Thompson is in order.  I overheard him muttering about failing as he scrubbed the galley from top to bottom the other day, after Johnson had already done so.  I think he blames himself for Captain Swan getting the jump on you.”

 

“He wasn’t even there!  Even if he was I’m sure the man with Captain Swan would have taken care of him just as he did with Hewitt perhaps with a blade to the gut instead of a rock to the head,” Killian growled, true anger coming to the forefront. “They were within our grasp Liam and I let them slip through my fingers!”

 

“We knew this wasn’t going to be an easy endeavor, brother,” Liam said softly, holding up his hands placatingly. “Talk to Thompson and when we anchor at Senlikli I’m ordering you to join the crew when they disembark.  No arguments.”

 

Killian opened his mouth to do just that but Liam just glared at him and walked away.  He almost called out after him, if only to get the last word in but knew it wasn’t worth it.  Not only would Liam have a retort ready it would end up being something that would humiliate him in front of the crew that was on deck.  It wouldn’t do for them to learn that he’d been scared of the dark for far too long or something equally embarrassing.

 

Glancing down at the bucket at his feet Killian sighed deeply, suddenly not at all interested in finishing the task he had started.  He had known that Thompson was beating himself up over what had happened back in Tuiscint, even after Killian had told him that it was his own bloody fault he had ended up tied to the tree.  Thompson hadn’t been convinced though, especially when Killian had remained tight lipped about everything that had happened.  Killian was sure that even if Thompson did know about Captain Swan he wouldn’t think any less of him but his own damn pride had prevented him from spilling the truth.

 

Quickly dumping the water overboard Killian made his way below deck, being sure to return the bucket and brush to their rightful place for the next poor sod delegated the task.  He continued down into the bowels of the ship barely sparing a glance to acknowledge those he passed on his way.  Thompson was scheduled for personal time which meant he was in the one place he knew no one would think to look for him, except for Killian of course.

 

Thompson was lying perfectly still on the bunk when Killian entered the brig, which was only a small cabin with a reinforced door that was locked on the outside when it was holding someone.  Killian was used to seeking out Thompson similarly on other ships they had sailed on in the past.  Not only was it one of the few places where sailors never went voluntarily but it was also usually situated in a less frequented area of the ship which all but guaranteed unbroken moments of solitude.  Something eagerly sought after on a crowded ship.

 

“Have you ever thought about reading something, or perhaps writing a letter or two, even polishing your boots would be less disconcerting than… this,” Killian said wryly as he waved his hand at Thompson’s prone form.

 

“Why would I do something for your peace of mind during  _ my _ personal time?” Thompson murmured.

 

“Because apparently you aren’t doing anything for your peace of mind according to Liam.  How long do you intend to punish yourself for something you had absolutely no influence on?  I expected Hewitt to be the one behaving like this but even she knows the circumstances were beyond her control,” Killian understood the irony of his words, especially since he could feel his that his knuckles were still oozing blood as he clenched his hand into a fist.

 

“About as long as you’re going to do the same,” Thompson turned his head to give Killian an accusing glare. “Don’t think I don’t know that something else happened with Captain Swan.  I’m not entirely sure what but you’re terrible at keeping the guilty look off your face.  It’s no wonder Liam’s been hounding me about what happened.”

 

“What happened has nothing to do with our mission.  We need to find the Brooke and Captain Swan and bring an end to their-”

 

“Reign of tyranny?  Restore peace and prosperity to the high seas?  Spare me the inspirational speech, Your Highness, and allow me to enjoy what’s left of my personal time,” Thompson closed his eyes and turned his head back towards the ceiling.

 

“What the hell is your problem Thompson?” Killian nearly shouted, frustrated beyond comprehension at his friend’s attitude.

 

“My problem?” Thompson sat up suddenly and glared at him. “My problem is the fact that you no longer seem to trust me.  I’ve been by your side for many years Killian and you have never kept something from me.  Not only are you holding back information about what happened with Captain Swan but you’ve been lying to me about what our true purpose is on this mission.  Finding the Brooke may well be part of it but there’s something more, I can see it in yours and Liam’s eyes.  How can I be expected to risk my life when I don’t know what I’m risking it for?”

 

Killian stepped back as the accusations hit their mark.  Thompson continued to glare at him and after a few moments nodded once at Killian’s continued silence.  He stood suddenly forcing Killian to take another step back.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I believe I’m needed on deck to assist with docking the Jewel when we get into port.”

 

Thompson gave him a perfunctory bow and slipped past him before Killian could stop him.  Not that he knew what to say if he had.  They had always been of one mind about things, their studies, lasses in the village by the academy, where the other was during a skirmish and Killian had never once doubted their bond.  It was just another one of his failings that he had committed during the mission, seemingly intent on disappointing every person he held close.

 

He was finally aware of how his keeping the truth about Captain Swan had impacted those around him and the selfishness of that act.  Not only was it an important fact that could help in finally capturing her but hiding it had caused a rift to form in Killian’s most trusted relationships.  He had let his pride overshadow his good sense and he was sure if he had run into Captain Swan again with such an attitude he would have fared far worse than being tied to a tree.

 

It wasn’t long before he sensed a shift in the ship’s momentum.  They must have been closer to Senlikli than he realized.  Which meant that Liam had been planning on anchoring there no matter what protests Killian had made.  It was another mark of the selfish pity that had dominated his thoughts since Tuiscint.

 

Even down in the depths of the ship he could hear the pounding of feet as they scurried above deck to prepare the Jewel for docking.  As much as he wanted to remain below deck he knew it was bad form to leave the rest of the crew short handed.  They would be especially vexed with him knowing that he was the sole reason they hadn’t had a proper shore leave in months.

 

When he emerged on deck he was shocked by the size of the city that hugged the coastline and the harbor they were slowly sailing into.  To say it was bustling would have been a gross understatement.  Ships of every size were anchored in neat rows or cutting lazy paths through the water as they slowly made their way through the harbor.  The city itself was almost the size of their own capital city in Balliolshire leaving Killian baffled as to how Corona’s capital was even larger.  What caught his eye most were the numerous banners, flags, and pennants all bearing the golden sun emblem on a purple background of the kingdom and donning every available surface, flapping gaily in the wind.  He had never been to Corona but he had read of it during one of his many history lessons of the kingdoms in the realm and memorized their royal emblem just as he had for the numerous others in his studies.

 

Shaking himself from his awed stupor he fell easily into the routine of preparing the ship to anchor.  There were no berths available at the docks, that was easy to see even without the crew grumbling about having to row to shore for their leave.  Their joy was still palpable over even the loudest of the complaining though.  It even begun to affect Killian, bringing an easy smile to his face as he listened to the idle plans of those around him.

 

It was well past sunset by the time all was taken care of and despite the pointed glares from Liam Killian volunteered to remain on board with a few others.  They would go ashore once their relief came the following day.  Killian hadn’t told Liam of his argument with Thompson and could see that his brother was quick to put together why he wanted to remain behind.  Liam rolled his eyes but gave him no grief settling on telling him to keep a weathered eye on the ship and that his previous order of seeing him on land remained.

 

The night was quiet on board, the men that had stayed behind reveled in their own way, enjoying the extra rations they were afforded while at port.  Even Killian found that his own spirits were buoyed.  It was a startling realization that he had been somewhat miserable since Tuiscint.

 

Their relief returned to the Jewel late the next afternoon, only slightly worse for wear. Thompson wasn’t among them but as an officer he was given a longer leave than those lower in station.  Liam appeared to have remained on shore as well, most likely to ensure that Killian followed his orders.  With a heavy sigh and a small pack over his shoulder Killian climbed into the rowboat with the others and headed towards the docks of Senlikli.

 

“Welcome, little brother!” Liam yelled boisterously as soon as he spotted them, even though they were still a good distance away.

 

“Younger brother,” Killian grumbled under his breath and judging from Liam’s bark of laughter he knew exactly how Killian had responded.  He raised his voice, “Worried I wouldn’t follow your orders Captain?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that Lieutenant,” Liam responded and it was only as they rowed closer that Killian saw the tension around Liam’s eyes and heard the slight warning in his voice. “Figured I’d be here to greet the rest of my crew as they began their leave.”

 

Killian looked warily at the people walking along the docks at Liam’s back but failed to see anything amiss.  The others in the boat with him quickly discerned his concern and were immediately on their guard.  Liam aided them as they moored the boat shaking his head subtly at the question Killian was sure was in his eyes.  After dismissing the others with assurances that nothing was amiss Liam led Killian into the city, saying nothing.

 

Finally after what felt like hours Liam entered a bustling tavern oddly named The Gilded Thistle.  It was a fair distance from the docks which must have been what Liam intended because he relaxed as soon as he procured them a table in the back corner.  He remained tight lipped with Killian but was full of relaxed charm as he ordered food and drink for them both.  Killian waited it out patiently.

 

“I hear their ale is weak but their stew more than makes up for it,” Liam said conversationally as he carefully observed his surroundings.

 

“Didn’t have a chance to try them out for yourself last night?” Killian asked, looking around the tavern himself.

 

“Alas there were more pressing matters to attend to,” Liam paused as their server brought two steaming bowls of stew and two tankards of ale to their table. “Thanks lass, be sure to keep our cups from running dry, yeah?”

 

The serving girl blushed as Liam winked at her and tossed several coins on the tray she held in her hands.  Killian rolled his eyes but flashed the girl a grin of his own when her eyes finally slid over to him.  Her blush intensified and she nearly tripped over her skirts as she turned to head back towards the bar.  He was sure they wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone but her for the rest of their time there.

 

“Should I be worried that you personally greeted me at the docks, brother?” Killian asked as he dug into his stew.  It tasted like heaven and he had to keep himself from groaning aloud.

 

“Not at the moment, no,” Liam said as a look of bliss crossed his face. “Damn, they weren’t wrong about this stew.  Which leads me to believe the rumors about the ale are truthful as well.”

 

“They are,” Killian grimaced after he swallowed a mouthful of the stuff. “What’s going on Liam?”

 

“William,” Liam seemingly corrected, smiling at Killian’s confusion.  He lowered his voice, “We’re the brothers Jones here.  William at your service, Kieran.”

 

“Kieran?” Killian made another face, independent of the taste of the ale still on his tongue. “You couldn’t let me choose my own alias?”

 

“I kept Jones didn’t I?” Liam grinned but his face quickly lost all humor. “There’s a rather large festival happening in the city and its attracted all sorts.  We cannot afford to be recognized, especially when the Jewel is well known even this far south.  So, the brothers Jones we shall be whenever we are on land.”

 

“Marvelous,” Killian took a large swig of ale and immediately spooned more stew into his mouth to dispel the taste. “Any idea who we might run into during our time here?”

 

“No idea, but I thought it would best to be on our guard none the less.”

 

Killian nodded in agreement and settled in to finish the rest of his meal.  Even with the poor quality ale he enjoyed himself.  Liam was relaxed and in a joking mood, flirting shamelessly with their server when she stopped at their table.

 

“Whatever happened to the Princess of Glowerhaven, brother?” Killian asked after their server seemingly floated away with another set of their empty tankards.

 

“Ah, Princess Margaret,” Liam’s grin softened and then turned into a frown. “There’s not much to be done when I’m away at sea on a mission that only few know about.  Her father agreed to keep up the lie that I’m spending time in their kingdom, much as you are supposed to be in Misthaven but he’s unaware of the extent of our goal.  My, uh, relationship with Margaret has reached a standstill at the moment.”

 

“I’m sorry Lia-, er, William,” Killian said quietly.

 

“Never you mind,” Liam said with a wave of his hand. “We’ll get there in the end.  I’m sure we’re not the first to deal with hardships and I daresay we won’t be the last.”

 

Killian wanted to say something more but his own romantic entanglements seemingly lasted no longer than a fortnight.  The pressure on him from his father and the court to find a wife was far less than what Liam had to endure and Killian was in no rush to the altar himself.  His reputation wasn’t one that was completely unfounded, no matter how much he resented it.

 

“Well, brother, I’m off for the night,” Liam groaned as he rolled his shoulders back.

 

“You’re leaving me to my own devices then?” Killian smirked.

 

“Aye, I told you to blow off some steam and I don’t intend to be around when you do,” Liam said with a smirk of his own. “Be sure to be back at the Jewel two hours after dawn the day after tomorrow.  We sail that day and it wouldn’t do to have to track you down before we do.  For now enjoy the festival, spend some coin, and try not to catch anything that will put you out of commission.”

 

“Shut up,” Killian grumbled.

 

“Never, but I will be going,” Liam said with a laugh as he stood.

 

Their server immediately approached their table and Killian bit back a laugh of his own as Liam had to gently turn down her proposal that he join her after her shift.  He felt bad for the girl and mildly annoyed at Liam for leading her on so.  While he had enjoyed a time or two with a server girl himself he never led them to believe it was anything more than it was.  He wasn’t looking for any kind of attachment and usually neither were they.

 

With the knowledge that he had no obligations for the foreseeable future Killian sauntered up to the bar and ordered a measure of rum for himself.  He had stomached enough piss poor ale for the night and even if he didn’t follow Liam’s orders to blow off steam there was no reason to deny himself the pleasure of getting properly drunk.  When the bartender returned with his drink he made sure to secure a room for the night as well.

 

After his second round he noticed a group of sailors playing Liar’s Dice on the far side of the room.  They seemed like a genial lot and Killian had had the fortitude of bringing his loaded die with him.  It wasn’t hard to convince them to allow him to join their game when he showed up at their table with a nearly full bottle of rum in hand.

 

The gaming was good but the company was better.  It was a motley crew if Killian had ever seen one and he guessed they had sailed many years together judging by the rapport they had with each other.  As the level of the bottle went down their bets went up and Killian had to use his dice sparingly or else risk cleaning them out of gold completely, or worse get caught and lose a hand for it.

 

He was on a particularly spectacular run when a shadow crossed over the table and a fresh bottle of rum slammed down in front of him.

 

“What are you boys playing?”

 

Killian knew who asked the question without looking up.  She had affected a breathy accent but there was no masking that Captain Swan was once again in his presence.  His hand immediately went to the sword at his waist but halted when he felt the tip of a blade press into his side.

 

Still refusing to acknowledge Captain Swan he turned to see who had him at knife point and groaned when he recognized the man beside him.  His name was lost to Killian but he was still wearing the red kerchief around his neck.  He wanted to do nothing more than grab hold of it and use it to slam the man’s head onto the table but knew he’d get a knife to the gut for his trouble.

 

“Seems as though my luck’s run out.  I’ll be taking my leave then,” Killian said jovially, removing his hand from the hilt of his sword to sweep his winnings into the other.

 

“I believe I asked you a question, sailor,” Captain Swan’s voice was low but amused.

 

“Back at this again are we?  Unfortunately for you I’m not tied to a tree this time and am even less inclined to answer your questions for it,” he kept his tone light but his gaze remained fixed on gathering the coins spread in front of him.

 

“You’re not tied to a tree but you do have a compelling reason to answer my question.  Pinocchio seems to have you at a disadvantage.”

 

Killian looked over at the man again, rolling his eyes when he felt the pressure increase on the blade.

 

“He’s not going to do anything,” he bluffed, hoping that he’d read her right the first time he’d met her.

 

“And why not?” She sounded puzzled.

 

He turned to her, looking her straight in the eye without hesitation.  He was satisfied to see her eyes widen and her mouth open slightly to suck in a breath.  Her hair was a mass of blonde waves falling loosely around her shoulders.  She was wearing a simple brown dress, fitting for a peasant but it only made her stand out all the more since most of the women were dressed in bright colors for the festival.  The sword belted at her waist was no help at making her blend in either.

 

“For the same reason you didn’t kill me back in Tuiscint.  Of all the rumors surrounding the captain of the Brooke not one has mentioned that there’s blood on her hands.  There’s also no mention of a woman being the Brooke’s captain but I’m thinking that’s more by design than by failure to notice.  You may be ruthless, love, but you’re not a murderer.”

 

“It wouldn’t be me doing the killing,” she pointed out.

 

“True but the blood would still be on your hands, Captain,” Killian broke their eye contact and focused back on pocketing his winnings.

 

While he did that he quickly looked at the sailors he had been playing with.  It was easy to see that they were all members of Captain Swan’s crew.  They were watching her with the patience and ease of sailors awaiting orders.  Even the matronly brunette woman wearing a vibrant red cloak was as attentive to Captain Swan as the others were.

 

“May I suggest a truce then?” She asked and he was amazed to see nearly all of her crew’s eyebrows jump up in surprise.

 

“A truce?” He looked up at her again and saw she was standing with her arms crossed, watching him closely.

 

“Yeah, why not?  I’m in a good mood,” she shrugged and placed her hands solidly on the table, leaning into his space. “I’ll get Pinocchio and the rest of my crew to leave and you join me in a drink or two.”

 

Killian masked his surprise, “And if I don’t agree?”

 

“Then you either end up losing some blood tonight or consciousness and I end up having to leave the city before I’m good and ready.  I think we both lose if you say no,” she stood back up to her full height and waited for his answer.

 

He knew he’d have no chance of detaining her without someone to back him up.  Liam had taken them far beyond where any of the Jewel’s crew might venture in their own wanderings of the city.  Even if there was a sheriff or constable about the odds were high that Captain Swan had either paid them off or would at the first chance.  It was clear that no one in the tavern would help him either, every other patron was studiously avoiding looking at their table as was the bartender and servers.

 

“I’ll agree on one condition,” he tapped the bottle in front of him. “Pinocchio here takes a drink before he goes.”

 

“It’s not poisoned,” she smiled. “But if you insist.”

 

She grabbed one of the many small pewter cups on the table and poured out a measure of the rum she had brought.  Killian watched as she handed it to Pinocchio and he swallowed it back without hesitation.

 

“Happy?” Pinocchio asked and Killian was surprised that he spoke directly to him.

 

“Not entirely but I am satisfied,” he turned back to Captain Swan. “I believe we have an accord, love.”

 

Captain Swan rolled her eyes at the endearment.  With a nod of her head the men and women sitting at the table stood and made their way out of the tavern.  He watched as a few others sitting at different tables left as well.  Suddenly he was glad that Liam had insisted upon the use of their aliases when they had shared their meal earlier.

 

“...ma are you sure?  We still don’t know who-”

 

Killian caught Pinocchio’s words before the man was abruptly cut off.  Not wanting to give away that he’d heard anything he made a show of carefully pouring out two measures of rum.

 

“I’ll be fine, he’s not going to do anything and if he does I can take care of myself,” she said it matter of factly and loudly, which meant it was not only for his benefit.  Her voice dropped again, “Red knows what to do and so do you.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I like it.”

 

Killian could hear the petulance in the words and decided he had his own kind of knife to twist.  He grinned up at the man and winked, satisfied to see him flush in anger.

 

“Alright, enough,” Captain Swan huffed exasperated. “Pinocchio, go.  You, sailor, stop it or I really won’t mind getting a little blood on my hands.”

 

“Apologies, Captain,” Killian bowed in his seat. “Forgive my impertinence.”

 

Captain Swan and Pinocchio shared a quick but startled look at his bow.  He didn’t know what nerve he had hit, he vaguely remembered bowing mockingly before but without such a visceral reaction.  Filing it away for later he picked up the cup in front of him.

 

“Shall we?”

 

Pinocchio spared them one last glance and left as Captain Swan dropped onto the bench across the table from him.  She picked up the second cup and swirled the liquid inside.

 

“What should we drink to?” She asked warily, seemingly worried he’d do something after all.

 

“How about to the dark humor of Fate?” He suggested.

 

“So you didn’t know I was here?” She was surprised, he could see that clearly.

 

“No more than you knew that I was?” he guessed and was happy to see that she hadn’t. “Just as I thought.”

 

“How?”

 

“Like I said, love, open book.”

 

She looked over him carefully and then raised her cup, “To Fate’s sense of humor.”

 

“Yes, to humor.  Cheers, Captain!”

 

They slung back their drinks and Killian was pleased to find that the rum was higher in quality than what he had been sharing with her crew.  She did the honors of filling their cups again but paused before drinking.

 

“Glad you got rid of that stupid ponytail, sailor.”

 

“Aye, well a beautiful woman once remarked that it was ridiculous and I happened to agree,” he watched fascinated as a blush stole across her cheeks even as she scowled at him.

 

“It wasn’t because you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re a naval officer?” She drained her cup as she still watched him, her eyebrow raised.

 

“Considering I’m currently wearing my uniform and doing nothing to cover it up I can assure you that’s not the case,” he swallowed his own cup’s contents. “I will admit that I have been saving a miniscule amount of time when I dress in the mornings.  Amazing what a haircut can do for a man.”

 

“Yeah, amazing,” she said in an annoyed tone but the blush was back. “Why did you anchor here of all places?  There are a hundred harbors between Tuiscint and here, thousands more inlets and small ports.  Why here?  Why now?”

 

“It wasn’t my decision if that’s what you’re wondering,” he poured out more rum and carefully considered his words. “My captain felt we were due for an extended shore leave and we needed to resupply somewhere that could provide all that we needed.  Senlikli happened to fit the bill.”

 

“I saw the Jewel back in Tuiscint, she’s a beautiful ship,” she sipped slowly at her rum, still carefully watching him over her cup.

 

“Aye, she’s a marvel.  How did you happen to see her when no one saw the Brooke leave?” He asked, desperate for the answer knowing it was the key as to how even the Queen hadn’t been able to stop her.

 

“I have my ways,” she hedged. “I noticed you’re not sailing under a particular kingdom’s flag.  Why is that?”

 

“We have our reasons,” he dodged answering just as easily.

 

“My guess is your reasons for pursuing me and the Brooke are not exactly widely known.  You can’t afford blame being placed on any one kingdom so you answer to no crown and also have no restrictions placed on how you capture me.  Am I right?”

 

Killian looked at her feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation.  The longer he stayed with her the more she would discern and it would put not only him in danger but the entire crew of the Jewel and his kingdom.  He drained his cup and made to stand and leave.  Whether he would return with others was the question he was grappling with.

 

“Do you know what this festival is for?” She asked, pointing out the window to where he could just make out the bottoms of the pennants draped between the buildings.  He shook his head, still poised to stand. “No?  Their princess has been missing for ten years.  Every year on her birthday the kingdom releases these glowing lanterns into the night sky hoping that she’ll see them or she’ll come back or something.  I don’t really know.

 

“Anyway, the princess was kidnapped and it had happened around the same time that the Evil Queen had forced her way back onto the throne of Misthaven.  A lot of people wondered if she had anything to do with it, especially here but she didn’t.  It was just another example of fate’s sense of humor.”

 

“What was, Captain?” He was drawn into the story despite himself.

 

“Knock it off with the ‘Captain’ thing, just call me Swan,” she huffed.

 

“If only you call me Jones in return, love,” he grinned and was rewarded with a small, genuine smile.

 

“Fine, Jones,” she filled their cups and nudged his into his hands. “So, yeah, Corona’s princess was taken months before the Queen’s final attack on Snow’s castle.”

 

“The one that ended with Queen Snow and Prince James’ imprisonment?” He was glad he remembered what he’d read back in Camelot so many months before.

 

“Yeah, and do you know what happened to their child?” She arched her brow and took a sip of rum.

 

“Their child?  From what I’ve read they had no children and even if they had they are most likely being held at the Queen’s mercy much like their parents or dead.”

 

“Don’t believe everything you read, Jones.  History is written by the victors after all.  The Queen has the power to alter every book with a snap of her fingers.  It’s far easier to deny the existence of someone when every trace of them has been wiped from all records,” she said sardonically.

 

“Surely there are people out there who remember.  A royal birth is cause for celebration, this festival is testament to that,” he was astonished to hear that the Queen had such power.  He wondered if there was truly any limit to what she could accomplish.

 

“Of course there are people who remember but what can they do?  The Queen killed hundreds of people just to get back on the throne, can you imagine what she’d do if people started whispering about someone who could lead them in rebellion?  You’re obviously not from Misthaven but you know how ruthless she can be,” her rum disappeared into her mouth with a flick of her wrist.

 

“How do you know I’m not from Misthaven?” Killian asked, suddenly on edge again.

 

“You had to read about Misthaven’s history in a book, you’re a naval officer and the only kingdom that has ties with the Queen and is seemingly ready to send their most important ship after me is Balliolshire.  Honestly, I figured that out when you said the Jewel was waiting outside the harbor at Tuiscint,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t figured out nearly everything they had tried to conceal.

 

“Then are you the beginning of a rebellion?  Are the members of your crew the ones who refuse to accept the Queen’s rule and thus turned to piracy to thwart her in any way you can?  Sorry, love, but it’s going to take more than that to defeat the Queen,” Killian scoffed and quickly swallowed his drink.

 

“I’m not out to defeat the Queen,” she snapped at him. “I’m just trying to survive and not get those idiots who sail with me killed.  It’s not my fault they believe I’m something more than I am.”

 

“And what are you, Swan?  Pirate captain?  Rebel leader?  Or just someone looking out for their own hide, with no regard for anyone who gets in their way?” He sneered and poured himself more rum ignoring her cup.

 

“What do you care what I am.  You’re just determined to capture me and get in Regina’s good graces.  Did she promise you gold?  Land?  A seat on her council?  Whatever it is it’s not worth it, sailor,” she snatched the cup from his hand and drank it herself.

 

“My motivations are my own, Captain,” he grabbed the bottle before she could pour out more, he blearily noticed more than half was missing and that his head had started to swim.  Then he caught on to something she had said, “You said her name.”

 

“What?” Swan’s eyes widened and she quickly looked around them.

 

“You said ‘Regina’, no one calls her that.  Only…”

 

He stopped, remembering something Liam had told him during one of his many rants against the Queen.  Liam had said that only Queen Snow and those loyal to her called the Queen by her given name.  Killian looked at Captain Swan and realized she was far too young to have fought at the Queen Snow’s side nearly thirty years before but she was the right age to be the daughter of someone who had.  Or perhaps even the missing royal child she had mentioned.

 

“Shit,” she sounded disappointed, upset almost, and he realized she had been watching him closely. “I thought you’d get drunk faster.  It would have been a lot easier.”

 

“I may be a naval officer but I know how to hold my rum,” Killian hoped she failed to realize he was, in fact, far drunker than he was letting on but he had to know. “Swan, are you-”

 

“Don’t!” She grabbed his arm, a panicked look on her face. “I promise one day I’ll explain but for now I’m sorry.”

 

“S’rry?” His words were beginning to slur and felt numbness racing up his arm from where her hand rested. “What’re you doing, Swan?”

 

“What I have to,” she was looking at him sadly and kept her hand on his arm, even as he slumped onto the table. “I can’t take the chance I’m wrong about you.”

 

Killian’s last conscious thought was that he never wanted to see her again if she kept knocking him out to make her escape.

 

When he came to he was laid out on an unfamiliar bed, fully clothed, and his boots still on his feet.  Sunlight was streaming through a gap in the window hangings that someone had only partially closed causing him to wince against the intrusion of light.  His head felt as though ogres had decided to fight in his skull and his stomach felt as unsettled as the sea during a storm.  He went to roll over on his side and try to go back to sleep when he remembered exactly who his drinking partner had been the night before.

 

Sitting up quickly he fought against the nausea as his mind raced over what had happened.  He had just reached the conclusion that Captain Swan was the missing child of Queen Snow and Prince James when she had somehow knocked him out to prevent him from saying anything out loud.  She had most likely gathered her crew once again fled in the night while she had the advantage.

 

Shifting on the bed he heard a crinkle of parchment underneath him.  Slowly, minding his aching head he turned to look and saw that he was sitting on a flyer of some sort.  Pulling it out he had to take a moment for the words to unblur themselves before his eyes.

 

It was an announcement for some sort of open air market in Agrabah that was hosting a tournament.  Or it had been, the dates were from the month before.  Killian was about to crumple it up in disgust when he noticed something on the back.

 

It was a nonsense phrase written in small neat letters.  _ ‘Let’s give Fate a real reason to laugh.’ _  For him however it was an invitation, one that he’d be a fool to decline.  He laid back down, determined to get at least a few more hours sleep.  The room was paid for and he still had at least a day left on his leave.  He’d figure out a plan and how to convince Liam of what he knew after he slept some more.  After all, he’d need all the rest he could get if he was to set out on a true hero’s journey.


	6. An Unexpected Blow

_ She wasn’t happy, in fact she was far from it.  Nothing was going her way and that, in and of itself, was vexing.  The captain of the Tarina Brooke was a thorn in her side that was taking far too long to remove.  It was time to move things along as only she could. _

 

_ “I need you to do something for me,” she smiled but it was full of venom. “You can’t be caught but you must be seen.” _

 

_ “Yes, your Majesty,” the man standing in front of her was as complacent as anyone should be in her presence, even more so considering how long he’d been serving her. _

 

_ She handed him a box containing the items he would need.  Explaining what he had to do was unnecessary.  He was the most competent of those under her command which is why she had chosen him for the task. _

 

_ “Excellent, I believe our friends in Balliolshire will be more than happy to see you.” _

 

_ The man bowed and left.  She turned to the mirror on the wall to revel in the misery of her prisoner.  It never failed to cheer her up. _

 

~*~

 

“How are we supposed to find her in this bloody maze?” Thompson grumbled, sweat beading on his forehead.  “Are we even sure she’s around?”

 

“We saw the Brooke anchored in the harbor,” Liam answered. “It’s a fine ship even if it is flying under a crimson flag.”

 

“It has been a month, Sir.  Perhaps she’s taken her crew inland and just uses this as a base of operations as it were,” Turner dabbed at his neck with a linen handkerchief.

 

“She’s here,” Killian grunted as yet another body pushed past him in the crowded market. “We couldn’t have been more obvious in our arrival if we’d set off cannons when we set anchor.  Even if she wasn’t near the docks someone will have informed her by now.”

 

They had entered Agrabah a week before and finally reached the port that housed the market on the parchment Swan had left with him in the tavern in Senlikli.  They had been sailing steadily south in their pursuit of the Brooke but they were still unprepared for the heat of the desert land.  At least on the water there was a wind to cool their brows, even if it was dry and hot.

 

Killian had awoken from his second round of sleep well into the afternoon after his night of drinking with Captain Swan.  After he made inquiries with the barman and paid for another night he followed the directions given to him and ended up at the Senlikli Library.  It had been a small, neglected building in the heart of the vast city which spoke volumes on the importance of the written word to the citizens.  He was happy to find that as small as it was their collection of the histories of various kingdoms was rather vast.

 

Swan had mentioned that the Queen was able to alter books at will but her magic didn’t extend to Corona or she just hadn’t cared because Killian was able to find a much more complete history of Misthaven than he had in Camelot.  The rest of his leave was spent holed up in the the library only leaving when he was hungry and when they closed their doors for the night.

 

He learned a great deal in the short time he had to study the histories.  The Queen had been married to Queen Snow’s father and had a somewhat legitimate, if tenuous, claim to the throne.  At least she would have if everything hadn’t been left to Queen Snow when her father died unexpectedly.  From there the tales lined up with what he had read in Camelot: rebellion, victory for Queen Snow and her followers, and banishment for the Queen.

 

The sixteen year’s peace in Misthaven that had been glossed over in Camelot’s books had been fully detailed in Senlikli’s.  Queen Snow and Prince James had married not long after regaining the throne, their wedding ceremony marred only by the abrupt arrival of the Queen bearing yet another threat on their lives.  They must have not been worried, Killian decided, because the announcement of Queen Snow’s pregnancy came only a few months later.

 

Princess Emma of Misthaven was born in the fall a several weeks shy of the celebration of her mother’s first full year as Queen.  She was three years younger than Killian and he was struck by the fact that he had known nothing of her existence up until Swan had told him of it.  Balliolshire had been an ally of Misthaven practically since their kingdoms had formed.  He should have been introduced to Queen Snow and Prince James multiple times as he grew and especially if they had an eligible daughter, even if she would have been intended as a potential wife for Liam as he was Balliolshire’s heir.

 

He had mulled over that for longer than he was willing to admit.  At first he had wondered if the Queen had worked some kind of magic, similar to what she had done to the written histories but with his memories.  Yet there were no gaps of time, no missing chunks of memory or ones that didn’t quite fit in with the rest.  Liam wasn’t around to ask but with his constant rumblings against the Queen he would have been quite vocal about someone more worthy of taking the crown from her.  Finally he had reached the unwilling conclusion that he, and perhaps Liam as well, had been prevented from meeting the rulers of Misthaven after the Queen had fallen.  That their father’s alignment with the Queen extended far deeper than they had suspected.

 

Sixteen years had passed peacefully with Misthaven flourishing spectacularly after the terror filled reign of the Queen.  Then, when the kingdom had seemingly put their horrific past behind them it had returned with a vengeance.  The Queen had laid waste to everything and everyone on her path to Queen Snow’s castle with the additional support of Camelot on the western front.  Killian was ashamed to read that even though Balliolshire hadn’t actively participated in the takeover they had stood idly by as the Queen’s forces converged on the castle.

 

At the end of it all Queen Snow was imprisoned far from her kingdom in a tower on a singular island in the middle of the Bottomless Sea.  Prince James was also imprisoned and although there was no location given all signs seemed to point to him being held at the castle the Queen had originally been banished to.  As for Princess Emma she had vanished completely during the Queen’s attack.  Some feared she was dead, others that she had escaped to another kingdom or perhaps found a way to leave the realm entirely.  One thing was consistent in every book: she hadn’t been seen in nearly ten years.

 

His research had ended when he realized he had only an hour to make it back to the docks when Liam expected him.  Not only had he been cloistered in a library for the past day, making no contact with anyone from the Jewel, but the last Liam had seen of him he had told him to blow off some steam.  If he had missed the boat back to the Jewel Liam would have suspected the worst, especially after what had happened in Tuiscint.

 

“Kieran, would you be able to recognize any of her crew?” Liam scowled as he scanned the market.

 

“Only a few, William,” Killian said the name with weary disdain.  He envied that Thompson and Turner had no need for aliases. “I doubt Pinocchio will have anything to do with me and the woman in the red cloak won’t be easy to spot if she’s ditched said cloak.”

 

“Keep an eye out anyway.  Who knows what Captain Swan has planned in the time it took for us to get here,” Liam said as he sidestepped a group of beggar children.

 

“You’d think she would have left clearer instructions on that note of hers.  I still can’t believe we sailed all this way on the hope that she might have meant for us to follow her,” Thompson complained as he shooed off the children that had started following them with outstretched hands.

 

“Then think of it as continuing our pursuit of the Brooke by following a valuable tip.”

 

Killian went to pat the pocket in his waistcoat where he had been keeping the folded parchment safe.  He stopped dead when he realized it wasn’t there.  He turned back the way they had come but the market was crowded and they had passed too many people to single out one who might have picked his pocket.  The parchment held no importance, that wasn’t what had him upset, it was the significance of it and how it had been the thing to sway Liam into backing his plan.

 

When he had returned to the Jewel back in Senlikli he immediately sought out Thompson.  Killian knew he’d need someone on his side when he approached Liam with his half assed idea of following Captain Swan to Agrabah.  Especially when it contradicted his previous hell bent notion of capturing her by suggesting they help her and definitely when he explained it meant overthrowing the Queen and restoring Swan’s mother to the throne.  He had barely convinced  _ himself  _ that it was worth the trouble.

 

Thompson had been easy to find and not only because there were still crew members on leave.  Killian had stumbled across him in the hold with Parker cataloguing the supplies they had picked up and organizing them for when they would set sail with the outgoing tide that afternoon.  He had expected to be greeted with a stony silence or even an aggressive glare and hostility as he tried to convince him of what needed to be done.  It had caught him off guard when Thompson turned and greeted him with a wide grin, as though they hadn’t parted on less than friendly terms only three days before.  Only the dark smudges under his eyes and a tightness in his shoulders let Killian know that Thompson wasn’t completely unfazed by their spat.

 

He had waited patiently for Thompson and Parker to finish up, his fingers running an idle path on the parchment in his hand.  When Parker had left Killian had immediately apologized and launched into his tale.  They were due to be at their posts and there was no time to waste if they needed to convince Liam to set a course for Agrabah.  That was, of course, if Killian could convince Thompson of it first.

 

That had proved to be entirely too easy.  Killian had started off by finally admitting that Captain Swan was a woman and to his embarrassment he felt the tips of his ears heat up and resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck in chagrin.  To make matters worse Thompson had just given him a smug look and announced that he had figured that out already.  He had explained that he’d only seen Killian in a strop like that when a lass was involved.  Killian had felt the heat of humiliation at his stupidity and stubbornness flare across his cheeks but he had been grateful that with Thompson’s teasing he wouldn’t have had to do much convincing on his part.

 

Together they had approached Liam, merely an hour before they were due to sail and Killian tried to lay out his ideas as succinctly as possible.  There had been no room for embellishment or exaggeration, not when the entire crew of the Jewel would be risking themselves on what amounted to a solid hunch and the whim of their prince.

 

Liam had listened to Killian attentively as he recounted his story again, only interrupting to clarify a point or two.  Much like Thompson he had already suspected that the something Killian hadn’t told him about Captain Swan was ridiculous in its triviality.  Liam had only raised his eyebrows when Killian had informed him that she was a woman and then confessed that he thought Captain Swan had merely insulted Killian so thoroughly that vengeance had been the only answer.  Like Thompson, Liam agreed that he’d only seen Killian that worked up when he’d been rejected by one of his fellow cadets at the academy the first year he’d been there.

 

Killian had scowled at the memory and immediately discounted the idea that he felt anything more than the mere desire to help Swan. Liam and Thompson had looked knowingly at each other and Killian’s scowl had deepened but he was glad that the mood was somewhat lightened as he laid out his plan.  That had been more of a sticking point with Liam, but Killian had anticipated that.

 

While Killian was impulsive, especially when his emotions got the better of him, he also had an uncanny knack of being able to see the outcome of a plan far into the future.  Liam held the same talent, something Killian was sure they inherited from their mother, but had become so entangled in the future of their kingdom that he was outright suspicious of outside influences.  The alliance their father held with the Queen had hardened his belief that Balliolshire should be autonomous and would be when he became King.

 

Despite the dwindling time they’d had before the tide started to recede Killian had patiently explained his plan.  He meant for them to follow Swan to Agrabah, which even though it was far beyond the Queen’s reach word would get back to her that the Jewel was headed that way with purpose.  Once there, and once they convinced Swan what that they intended to help her, they would begin to strategize a way to restore Misthaven’s proper rulers and defeat the Queen once and for all.  Killian had argued that there were many kingdoms that had been allies with Queen Snow and only needed someone to rally behind to lend their aid.

 

It had been easy to see that while Liam was listening patiently he had already been forming a counter argument in his head.  When he had finished Killian had returned the favor and listened to Liam talk about risk and unknown consequences without interruption.  At the end of it he pulled out the parchment and tapped at the words Swan had written.  He had told Liam that if they failed at capturing Swan they were dead men and even if they did succeed their reprieve would be only short lived.  The Queen would control them as long as she held power and they had the chance to finally do what Liam had been arguing about for years, to break out from her hold and truly rule their kingdom.

 

Liam had remained silent for longer than Killian had thought he would.  When he stood and left the cabin without a word Killian threw a worried glance at Thompson before scrambling to follow.  He had emerged on deck and had been greeted with the controlled chaos of the crew preparing to set sail.  Liam had already been standing at the helm talking closely with Turner and before Killian could reach him his voice had boomed out across the deck.  He had announced that they were headed to Agrabah and to prepare for warmer climes and exotic sights.  Amidst the resuming of preparations after his announcement Liam approached Killian and told him that they’d go, but only to talk to Captain Swan.  He would make his final decision, to either arrest her or to join her, based on what she had to say.

 

During their voyage south they had held many late night discussions about the repercussions of their actions with Turner and Liam voicing the worst, Killian rebutting with more favorable outcomes, and Thompson playing Devil’s advocate by egging on both sides.  They had come up with a tentative plan to approach Captain Swan.  It would have to be in the open, they decided, with just the four of them, even going so far as to wave a white flag if she requested it.  Every night after supper they met and exhausted their limited knowledge of her and her crew but had no other way to prepare for what was to come.  After, if Killian was not on the night watch or helm, he retired to the cabin he shared with Thompson and two others and dreamed of Swan.

 

At first he had attributed it to their continual discussions of her and the circumstances that led to her becoming a pirate.  It was an easy excuse, one he latched on to the moment he woke and held fast as he went about his day.  When night came, however, and he came to anticipate more and more the moment his mind would conjure the visage of Swan in his sleep he realized he was heading into a trouble neither he nor his brother had anticipated.  As the days passed and they sailed ever closer to Agrabah he tried to stubbornly fight against what his sleeping mind had already informed him.  He fancied Captain Swan.

 

Once he acknowledged it he became hyper aware of his behavior and words when her name entered the conversation.  He knew that Thompson would tease him mercilessly about it, just as he knew that Liam would not take their goal seriously if he realized that Killian wasn’t altogether uninterested towards the princess turned pirate captain.  He took great caution when he spoke about her and rarely brought her up of his own volition.  It was far easier for him to practice avoidance than indifference but it had become increasingly harder the closer they sailed to Agrabah.

 

The note Swan had left him in Senlikli had become a talisman of sorts.  He kept it on his person at all times, safely in a pocket in his waistcoat or tucked into his boot.  Killian felt it was a promise, not from her to him but one to himself.  Swan had trusted him with her tale and he would do whatever was in his power to help her, even if the cost far outweighed whatever the outcome would be.  He owed her at least that much for sparing his life twice.

 

“Check your pockets,” Killian said calmly and quietly.

 

The others did as he asked and did so discreetly.  Killian was relieved and dismayed to see that only a look of puzzlement crossed their faces.

 

“What is it, brother?” Liam asked seriously, maintaining a steady pace through the market but watching the people around them even more closely than before.

 

“Either there’s a pickpocket running around this market that’s highly selective in their mark or Captain Swan knows we’re here,” Killian remarked as he too scanned the crowd. “Plucked the parchment right out of my pocket without me noticing.”

 

Liam hummed, knowing exactly what parchment Killian was referring to.  He’d only seen it the one time but he’d somehow known that Killian kept it on his person.  Killian idly wondered if Liam knew more about what Killian was feeling than he had let on.

 

“I expect we’ll hear from her soon enough.  We should make it easier for her to find us or should I say you, little brother.  She wouldn’t know me from any other impossibly handsome man here.  Which I guess means she would,” Liam grinned and winked at Killian.

 

“Should we stop at that public house over there, sir?” Turner asked pointing to a busy establishment that had the appearance of the bustle of a tavern but without the somewhat raucous air that accompanied one.

 

“Only if you want more than just a piece of parchment stolen from you,” a wry voice commented from Killian’s side, holding said parchment between her fingers up for them to see.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t a thief, Swan,” Killian said as he plucked the parchment from her hand and looked her over.

 

She was wearing a dark scarf over her hair and was wrapped in gauzy layers of midnight blue.  Her sword was absent but he could see the hilt of a dagger at her side and he suspected another one was strapped somewhere else on her.  He managed to halt his thoughts before he could fully visualize it but Swan gave him a knowing smirk and he realized he hadn’t been entirely successful.

 

“You’re right, I did, but then again what’s a pirate but just a thief on the water?” She gave a full smirk and held up a ring in the palm of her other hand.  He instantly recognized it as the one Liam wore and only removed to press into melted wax when sealing a letter.

 

“I believe the punishment for stealing is losing a hand, love,” Killian warned as he closed his hand over hers, tugging on it slightly exposing her wrist. “You might even come to be known as Captain Hook if you chose such an instrument as a replacement.  Hardly a fitting moniker for a prin-”

 

“Not here!” Swan hissed, practically ripping her hand from his but leaving the ring behind. She glanced around her quickly, “Follow me.”

 

She turned on her heel and walked back the way they had come.  Killian flexed his fingers around the ring clenched in his hand.

 

“I figured she must be a sight if she’d managed to rile you up so but bloody hell, Jones, if she isn’t really the princess I’d still drop to my knees to swear loyalty to her,” Thompson murmured as he brushed past Killian making to follow her.

 

“Is it truly wise to follow her?” Turner questioned, stepping in front of Thompson to stop him in his tracks. “She has given us no reason to and the fact that she took that ring from you, Sir, and blatantly flaunted her ability to do so does not instill the utmost confidence in her motives.”

 

“Do we have any other choice Turner?” Liam sighed holding out his hand for his ring. Killian dropped it into his waiting palm and watched as he twisted it back onto the pinky of his right hand. “If anything we can arrest her for stealing.”

 

“We can decide if you’re going to trust me or not somewhere else,” Swan’s voice came from behind them.  They all turned at once and Killian was sure his look of surprise was matched by the others. “I’d pay more attention to what’s going on around you, sailors.  There are people here who would gladly stick a knife between your ribs for just standing around doing nothing.  You’re suspicious enough travelling in a group but wearing your uniforms is asking for trouble.”

 

“Surely no one would think to harm us for that?” Turner asked, seemingly offended.

 

“No, you’re right.  They wouldn’t think, they’d just go ahead and do it,” Swan smiled predatorily and then shook her head. “Let’s go.  I promise you’ll get there in one piece.  As long as you keep up that is.”

 

She strode off again and they followed without hesitation.  Killian also heeded her advice and paid careful attention to the crowds as they moved through them.  For the most part he saw nothing suspicious.  There were men and women haggling over prices, sailors sorting through spices and baubles they wouldn’t find in their own kingdoms, and gangs of orphan children roaming the streets accepting whatever people were willing to part with.  It had all been things he had seen before Swan had intercepted them, yet the feel of the market had changed subtly and he wondered if it was just his perception being altered by Swan’s words.

 

They followed her almost all the way back to the docks before she veered off into a hidden alleyway.  Her steps were light and quick and Killian could see how she’d managed to sneak up on them time and again.  He idly wondered if it was a natural talent or one she had come by as a princess or as a pirate.  His thoughts were interrupted when Swan came to a stop in front of a plain, windowless door and knocked on it confidently.

 

The door opened but Killian couldn’t see past the entryway, where the sunlight pushed the shadows back but did nothing to dispel them completely.  Swan walked in and was almost immediately swallowed by the gloom.  He glanced at his companions but they looked no more eager than he felt at entering the unknown building.

 

“Get the hell in here or go back to your ship, sailors,” Swan’s voice called out to them impatiently.

 

“I don’t like this, Sir,” Turner half whispered to Liam. “It feels at best like a trap and at worst like we’re willingly walking to our deaths.”

 

“Well, I’m going to bet on the safe side and go with it’s a trap,” Thompson said almost gleefully. “Best not to disappoint them and play along.”

 

With that Thompson walked with his head held high into the building.  Sighing Killian followed, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword.  He heard Liam and Thompson follow him in but before he could turn around the door closed behind them, plunging them into almost complete darkness.  Someone shuffled past them and walked deeper into what Killian assumed was a house.  The smell of burning incense and the lingering odor of a meal were big clues, along with the sitting room he had gotten a glimpse of before the door had been closed.

 

“I thought we agreed we’d do this without the theatrics?” Swan’s voice came from ahead of them. “Not all of us have night vision Red.”

 

“And not all of us intend to be rude to our guests,” a second female voice said.  A  match was struck and a lamp was lit bringing into light the woman in the red cloak. “Don’t just dawdle by the door.  Come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

 

She was standing at the end of a short hallway that was flanked by a wall on one side and a narrow staircase on the other.  Thompson led the way again following the woman as she disappeared from the doorway taking the lamp with her.  Killian was close on his heels and felt Liam at his back.  He snorted, wondering what Swan and the woman thought of them acting like a bunch of children exploring a house reputed to be haunted.

 

The room turned out to be a dining room of sorts.  There was a table and chairs around it but its surface was littered with parchment, books, and maps along with discarded plates and cups.  It wasn’t wholly unoccupied either.  Killian spotted at least three dwarves sleeping in one corner and Pinocchio was seated at a small desk hunched over more parchment with a lone candle lighting his work.  He looked up briefly at their entrance and scowled before turning back to his work.

 

Swan was seated at the table, the scarf that was over her hair now draped around her shoulders, and with a lazy sweep of her hand indicated they should sit as well.  The woman in the red cloak, named Red Killian assumed, sat on her right, Liam sat across from Swan, Killian next to him, Thompson and Turner remained standing even after Swan glared at them with annoyance, drawing her lips into a thin line.

 

“Is there any chance we could get a drink, love?” Liam asked politely, directing his attention to Red. “We’re not quite used to the temperature and our trek through the marketplace has left us quite parched.”

 

“Oh!  Yes, of course, I’m so sorry I didn’t think of it,” Red stood up quickly and seemed to take a head count. “Don’t worry about waiting until I get back to get started.”

 

They were quiet as she slipped through another doorway into a kitchen if the rattling of dishes and the sounds of liquid being poured was any indication.  Killian started bouncing his leg in impatience as the tension in the room ratcheted up with each silent minute that passed.  Liam kicked his foot under the table and smiled serenely at Swan, steepling his hands under his chin.

 

Killian settled his face into polite interest but couldn’t help the way he was reacquainting himself with Swan’s appearance.  She seemed softer in her loose, flowing garments even as she sat rigidly in her chair.  Even if Red never returned with something to drink he felt as if he had already found his desert oasis.  He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous poetic notions and allowed himself a grin when Swan gave him a confused look.

 

“We’re not here to arrest you,” Liam started, drawing her gaze to him. “I know that doesn’t mean you should trust us but I thought I’d put it out there.”

 

“You’re right, I still don’t trust you,” Swan supplied, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms. “A ship has been pursuing me from a kingdom with known ties to the Queen, a woman who’s been trying to kill me for… well a long time.  It’s only because of this bumbling idiot that I haven’t blown your ship out of the water.”

 

Liam clasped his hand around Killian’s wrist and he felt another on his shoulder but he made no move to get up or even open his mouth to rise to the bait.  He smiled, knowing that she was trying to goad him into doing something stupid so she would have reason to shut them out.

 

“I’ve said it before, if you were going to do something you would have done it already.  Idle threats won’t get you far especially when very real ones are hanging over our heads, Captain Swan,” Killian said the name disparagingly, feeling satisfaction when her jaw clenched and a muscle twitched in her cheek. “If you, however, want to make a threat of another kind.”

 

He winked and watched as the red climbed predictably up her cheeks.  Whether it was from pleasure or annoyance he couldn’t quite be sure.

 

“Seriously, Kil- er, Kieran?  Now is not the time,” Liam growled.  He addressed Swan, “Apologies Captain Swan, my brother is a bumbling idiot but he has a point.  You could have blown us out of the water as you so eloquently put it or even ambushed us at sea as well as on the land but you didn’t and you haven’t.  I’m guessing you’ve brought us here to negotiate for something, at the very least.”

 

“I brought you here because I thought you wanted to offer me a pardon or your surrender handed to me on a silver platter.  I mean, you did let me escape.  Twice,” Swan winked at Killian but there was no hint of it being good natured.

 

“And yet you decided to practically lay out an invitation for us to follow you,” Killian snapped back, heedless of Liam’s warning kick to his foot.

 

“I didn’t want you to follow me!” Swan said shocked and yet almost guiltily.

 

“Then why did you tell me you tell me your sad little tale?  Why leave me that note?” Killian asked trying to cover the fact that she had tricked him again and he’d made the mistake of dragging the others down with him.  He was starting to lose his temper, all his previous fanciful musings turning to ash at her callousness.

 

“The note wasn’t from me,” she said with a scowl. “Red decided she needed to meddle in something she should have left well enough alone.”

 

“Guilty,” Red sang out as she entered the room with a tray laden with cups, a loaf of bread, and a plate of creamy goat cheese.  She placed it on the table and sat down.

 

“But how… the thing about fate, how could you have known?  I watched you leave the tavern with everyone else,” he said bewildered at Red’s confession.

 

“Let’s just say I have really good hearing and leave it at that,” Red grinned mischievously, causing Killian to shift uneasily in his seat.  She passed around the cups but only her and Swan drank from them.

 

“And your story?” Killian asked, staring hard at Swan. “The little lost princess who’s done nothing to fight for her home, her people?  Forgive me, your Highness, if I’m not entirely convinced we shouldn’t arrest you simply for abandoning your kingdom.”

 

Killian heard groans from all around him and a particularly deep sigh from Liam.  It had been a low blow but he tamped down his guilt.  He wanted answers and it seemed goading her into it would be the only way he would get them.  Swan’s eyes darkened in anger and her fist was clenched on top of the table, knuckles white.  

 

“Honestly?” Her voice was steel in its hardness and ice cold. “I figured you were stupid enough to fall for a pretty face.  I was right.  I wanted to see if I could charm my way onto your ship and take it for everything it was worth.  I hadn’t counted on it being the Jewel and filled with a bunch of self righteous bastards.

 

“I thought leaving you unconscious and tied to a tree would have been enough of a warning.  I didn’t realize your skull was too thick to get the message.  Senlikli was a mistake.  I should have poisoned that rum.  At least I wouldn’t be dealing with this your pretentious ass.  I can’t believe you convinced these idiots to go along with whatever you had planned.”

 

“Emma,” Red gasped. “That’s not-”

 

“Not what?  Very nice?  Guess what I’m not sixteen anymore and I don’t need you to keep treating me like I’m a princess that’s stepped out of line.  It’s over Red, I’m done,” Emma stood and glared at everyone in the room. “I didn’t ask for any of this and I’m just trying to stay alive.  So forgive me if I don’t feel like being nice to the people who were sent to either kill me or to take me to someone who will.”

 

Swan stormed out, back the way they had entered.  A tense silence filled the room in her absence only tempered by the scratching of Pinocchio’s quill.  Killian couldn’t see the man’s face but somehow knew he was grinning.  He felt the urge to rush over and do something about it when Red cleared her throat gently.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said sadly.  Slowly and deliberately she tore the bread into somewhat equal pieces and passed it around, the plate of cheese following. “We’ve been on the run for a long time and it hasn’t been easy.  I thought if we had help, build up trust with someone we actually could take back the kingdom.  The note was meant to be a push in the right direction, for both of you.”

 

“So it’s true, she’s the Crown Princess?” Turner asked with skepticism lacing his voice.

 

“Yes, it is,” Red’s eyes seemed to glow for a moment and Killian could have sworn her voice deepened into a growl.

 

“Why share her story with Killian?  She knew we were pursuing her at the Queen’s behest.  Why even talk to him at all?” Liam demanded.

 

“My reasons are my own,” Swan answered, leaning on the doorjamb scowling and looking far from apologetic for her outburst. “The Queen knows I’m on the Brooke and I think she suspects I may be the ship’s captain.  I needed to see if what I said made it back to her.”

 

“You wanted to test our loyalties?” Killian asked, eyes narrowed as he watched Swan shrug in agreement. “And if we had, in fact, been loyal to the Queen.”

 

“Then the next time we crossed paths you wouldn’t walk away from it,” she stated matter of factly.

 

“I still fail to believe you’d allow blood to stain those delicate hands of yours, love.”

 

“Killing isn’t the only way to stop someone Jones.”

 

Killian stared at her trying to puzzle her out.  She stared right back at him in defiance, almost willing him to look away or find her lacking.  He did neither, just wondered how a princess raised by the magnanimous Queen Snow and Prince James had hardened into the pirate captain that stood before him.

 

Suddenly the front door opened and shut with such force that they all jumped, even the sleeping dwarves roused themselves at the noise.  Killian, along with the others, immediately reached for whatever weapon they had on them.  Swan relaxed when she was it was another dwarf but Killian didn’t.  There was something about the look on the dwarf’s face that caused his grip to tighten on the hilt of his sword.

 

“What the hell Grumpy?!  I told you not to come barreling in here like that,” Swan admonished.

 

“Sorry sister, but I overheard something in the market,” the dwarf, Grumpy, said with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.  Then he caught sight of Killian and the other men who had accompanied him. “Who are they?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, dismissing them with a wave. “What was so important you just couldn’t wait to tell me?”

 

Grumpy glared at them suspiciously but smiled as he turned to her, “King Brennan of Balliolshire is dead!”

 

Killian felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs.  He distantly heard Turner and Thompson gasp behind him as he turned towards Liam.  His brother’s face was paler than he’d ever seen it and he made a choked sound.

 

“Who told you this?” Turner asked, angry and disbelieving.

 

“It’s spreading through the market like wildfire.  A ship just docked with a messenger who has been sailing from port to port with the news,” Grumpy said petulantly, seemingly put out that they didn’t share in his joy.

 

“How,” Liam said with a shaky voice, his hand gripping Killian’s wrist painfully. “Did the messenger say how it happened?”

 

“The rumor is he was killed.  Stabbed by his own son, Prince Killian.”


	7. Tough Decisions

“The rumor is he was killed.  Stabbed by his own son, Prince Killian.”

 

Killian heard the words but they didn’t make sense.  The others had to have heard them, of that he was sure, judging by the fact that Turner and Thompson were hurdling question after question at the dwarf without allowing him to respond.  Swan and Red were snapping back at them, obviously defending their friend.  He had no real concept of what was going on, it was all hazy background noise.  What mattered was the look in Liam’s eyes, the digging of his fingers in Killian’s wrist, and the swirl of emotions threatening to drown him.

 

“What the hell is your problem, Sir Stick Up Your Ass?  I get that he was your King but he was a corrupted asshole.  Keep your men in line, Captain Jones, or I’ll do it for you!”

 

“Watch your tone.  You may be a princess but you are addressing a king.”

 

Turner’s words seemed to have sucked all the air out of the room.  A fresh wave of pain washed over Killian and he closed his eyes against it.  Liam’s hand was shaking and Killian could hear his harsh breathing at his side.  Their father was dead and Liam was King.

 

“What are you talking about?  Jones?” Swan sounded confused and angry.

 

“Your Majesty, I believe we should return to the ship and Balliolshire immediately.  Even if the rumors are false we need to discover the truth for ourselves,” Turner said, ignoring Swan’s questions.

 

“The messenger, did you see him?” Liam commanded, ignoring Turner in turn.

 

His tone caused Killian to finally open his eyes and see everyone’s attention on his brother or Grumpy.  Everyone but Swan, whose focus was solely on him.

 

“Talked to him myself,” Grumpy said proudly, puffing up his chest.

 

“Turner, we need to know who sent this messenger and if his story holds up under questioning,” Liam ordered. “Take Grumpy with you, he can point him out.  If you see any of the crew tell them to return to the Jewel by nightfall but until then they are not to disclose they are Balliolshire subjects if they haven’t already.  If needed they must return to the Jewel to grieve as they see fit.  Bring the messenger back here, if he is from home we need to be careful with who knows we’re here.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  What the hell is going on?  I deserve an explanation,” Swan was still staring at Killian, her eyes practically sparking with anger.

 

Killian shook his head.  He couldn’t do it, he had no voice to explain everything.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Liam nod.

 

“Princess Emma of Misthaven may I present King Liam and His Royal Highness Prince Killian of Balliolshire,” Turner executed a curt bow, bringing him into Killian’s line of view for a moment.  He looked proud and devastated at having to make such an announcement.

 

The room was silent.  It was so quiet that Killian could hear the muffled conversations of people passing by the house outside.  He would have given anything to be out there, unknowing and uncaring, instead of stuck in a room trying to comprehend how only a few words had knocked his world off its axis.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Swan breathed out, so quiet Killian wasn’t sure if she was angry or disbelieving.  He met her eyes and he saw betrayal in their depths.  Anger it was. “Regina sent the heirs to the throne to capture me?  Is she insane or actually that stupid?”

 

“Turner, go.  Thompson you as well,” Liam continued ignoring Swan’s questions. “If you’d be so kind, Captain Swan, I would appreciate it if we were able to discuss some matters with you.  Alone.”

 

Swan pursed her lips.  She regarded them carefully, her gaze darting between him and Liam.  Finally she seemed to reach some conclusion because she rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“Red go with Thompson, you’ll be able to find the messenger in the crowd.  Pinocchio, Happy, Doc, and Sleepy you spread yourselves out among the market.  Try to get all the information you can.  Report back in an hour, I’m sure my conversation with the Royal Asses will be over by then.”

  
  
  


The voices erupted once again at the orders.  Killian watched in a detached manner as the the three dwarves who had been asleep filed out of the room, despite the glares and grumbles from Grumpy.  Pinocchio had abandoned his writing and was whispering vehemently with Swan, gesturing angrily at their side of the table.  Thompson was talking a mile a minute in his ear while Turner was doing the same with Liam.

 

Killian ignored what Thompson was saying.  He couldn’t get past the constant litany of ‘Your Majesty’ coming from Turner’s mouth.

 

“It’s Your Royal Highness,” Killian growled, glaring at Turner.

 

“Your Highness?” Turner was taken aback by the vehemence in Killian’s voice.

 

“Killian,” Liam said placatingly.

 

“You will address him as Your Royal Highness or Sir.  Until there is definitive proof of my father’s death,” Killian’s voice cracked and he had to clear his throat to go on, “We have no reason to believe any rumors that may have been spread by unknown sources.”

 

“Killian, if a messenger has truly been sent then there is truth in his words,” Liam said in a low voice. “We have to prepare ourselves-”

 

“No!” Killian’s voice rang out in the small room, halting all conversations. He glared at the others who were staring back at him. “Find the messenger.  Bring him here.”

 

He didn’t wait for signs of consent or more disputes.  Wrenching his arm out of Liam’s grip he stood abruptly from the table and stalked into the room he had seen Red go in to get the food and drinks.  The voices started up again in his wake but he paid no heed.  His thoughts were loud enough to drown out everything else.

 

The room he found himself in was a kitchen of sorts.  There was a small hearth, barely large enough to fit the cauldron that was hanging over the glowing embers in the fireplace.  The large table in the middle of the room was littered with herbs and spices.  Some the likes of which he had never seen, or smelled.  He tried to focus on recognizing the ones he did know, the rosemary hanging from the ceiling and sprinkled amongst the sage, parsley, and thyme, the coarse salt in a shallow bowl next to another that was filled with a fragrant dark golden yellow powder, and even the tiny rough black peppercorns received their fair share of his scrutiny.

 

Killian’s intense focus was shattered when he remembered the first time he’d found himself in the castle kitchens and his father had been the one to collect him.  He had been four or five at the time and had snuck out of the nursery when his nursemaid had thought he was sleeping.  Liam had been in another part of the castle, for one lesson or another and Killian had intended to seek him out.  He had wandered through the halls of the castle with no one stopping him and ended up following a servant he recognized down into the kitchens.

 

The scullery maids and kitchen boys had been surprised to see him, he remembered that, but it was the cook that had approached him, kneeling down to his level and asking what mischief he had gotten himself into.  Killian remembered being placed on a stool by the large warm hands of the genial man with an overlarge apron tied around his waist and a bowl with a small lump of bread dough set in front of him.

 

When his father had found him an hour or so later he had been happily punching and pulling at the dough and nearly covered from head to toe in flour.  Brennan had laughed heartily at the sight, causing Killian to grin and eagerly show his father how helpful he had been.  He didn’t learn until years later that he had caused a panic in the upper halls of the castle when he was discovered missing.  All he remembered from that day was that his father had rolled up his sleeves and helped him finish making the bread.  They had shared the finished loaf, misshapen and a bit burnt in places, with Liam and his mother that night at supper.

 

Killian heard a harsh panting and quickly realized it was him.  He tried to stifle the noise with his hand but it only caused him to breathe harder.  Dropping his hand to the table he bent over it dragging in desperate lungfuls of air, trying to stem the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

 

“Killian?”

 

He hunched his shoulders involuntarily as though to ward off a blow.  Liam would have followed him in order to have a private conversation with him.  Killian wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what Liam had to say.

 

“Don’t expect me to apologize,” Killian sighed, standing up straight and facing his brother.  A sudden thought occurred to him and he grasped onto it. “This could be a trick of the Queen’s!  How else could you explain that the tale being spread is that I kill- killed Father.”

 

“I’m not entirely sure it is.  No, hear me out,” Liam had held up his hand to stall Killian’s indignant rant. “The messenger has come here from another port and most likely several others as well.  Which means that there is some veracity to his tale.   This news has travelled from our kingdom, or at least near our kingdom, all the way here.  That alone should speak of its importance.  We must prepare ourselves for the messenger to confirm what we dread.”

 

“What  _ we _ dread?” Killian scoffed. “Don’t pretend that you suddenly care for Father.  You have been very vocal about how much you loathe him.”

 

“Don’t for a second think that I’m as cold-hearted as that,” Liam strode up to Killian, getting in his face. “I may have disagreed with him and how he ruled our kingdom and he was a right bastard at times but I never,  _ never _ , loathed him.”

 

“You’re already accepting what we still don’t know to be true!” Killian said in an angry growl, his lip curled in a sneer.  He was mindful to keep his voice down, lest the others could hear them. “Letting Turner call you King, speaking of Father in the past tense.  I’m surprised you’re not already rushing to the nearest tailor to have your measurements taken for your coronation togs.”

 

Liam seemed taken aback by the vitriol of his words  His brother rocked back on his heels and was staring disbelieving at him and then suddenly a fist was flying towards his face.  Killian didn’t see it coming and took the full force of the blow to his jaw.

 

“Fuck you,” Liam said harshly.  

 

Killian was shocked by the coarse words he had never heard Liam utter.  Liam had always prided himself on keeping a civil and respectful tongue, even though he was a true sailor through and through.  As he rubbed his aching jaw Killian wasn’t sure if the hit or the words were more of a blow.

 

“Clean yourself up,” Liam addressed a spot over Killian’s shoulder as he clenched his hand, making the already bruising knuckles stand out. “We still owe Captain Swan an explanation.”

 

With that Liam disappeared back into the room where Killian assumed that no one but Swan was now waiting.  He pulled his hand away from his face and was surprised to see blood smeared across his palm.  Delicately he brought his fingers to the corner of his mouth and hissed at the contact.  Pulling them back he saw fresh blood on his fingertips.

 

As he began to search for a rag and water to clean up Killian felt the guilt begin to creep in.  If Liam had said the words Killian had then he would have done far more than merely sock him across the jaw.  Killian was also sure that Liam had pulled the punch at the last minute, he’d seen bigger men than him being felled by one of his brother’s hits.  Finally he spied a spare bit of cloth and the water barrel and proceeded to wipe away the blood as best he could without the help of a mirror.

 

When he figured he was presentable and the cut on the corner of his mouth was no longer leaving traces of red on his fingers he returned to the dining room.  His suspicions were right, only Swan and Liam were in the room when he entered.  They weren’t talking, merely sitting across from each other, Liam turned towards the hallway leading to the front of the house and Swan watching him carefully.  At Killian’s entrance her eyes darted to him and they narrowed as she took in his appearance.

 

“Look, I don’t want to deal with a bunch of family drama.  I just want to know what the hell is going on and why I had to send away everyone I trust just to get a few answers,” Swan crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, regarding the two of them.

 

“It’s complicated,” Liam began with a sigh, turning back to face her. “In case you haven’t noticed we’ve also sent away our own trusted men.  There are things at stake that we cannot afford to put at risk over some bruised egos.”

 

“Does it have anything to do with the relentless pursuit by this joke of a prince?” Swan cocked her thumb in Killian’s direction. “It’s easy to see why I didn’t figure out who you were before.  I would have thought you were a court jester before guessing you’re royalty.”

 

“That’s enough,” Liam snapped.  He stood up abruptly, “Come Killian, we have bigger issues to deal with than her petty insults.”

 

Killian knew enough to do as Liam instructed.  He may not have been forgiven for his outburst but he knew that Liam did not take kindly to insult, especially when it was directed at Killian.  Even if he deserved it and he most certainly did.  Liam had taken his fair share of disciplinary action for defending Killian with his fists and a sharp tongue at the Academy.  Without sparing a look at Swan he started towards the doorway passing behind Liam who was practically vibrating with displeasure.

 

“Hey, wait! Stop, stop,” Swan called out to them. “I was just teasing, no need to get all offended.  It’s not everyday that Regina decides she’s so hell bent on killing me that she gets a couple of princes to do it.”

 

Hovering in the doorway Killian waited for Liam’s decision.  His jaw ached fiercely, throbbing in tandem with his pounding heartbeat.  He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming at the base of his skull and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in his cabin aboard the Jewel and forget everything that had happened.  Anything that would put a stop to the continuing run of bad luck he seemed to have found himself mired in.

 

“I don’t expect an apology,” Liam started, speaking slow and pointedly. “You don’t seem the type to give one and I don’t know if I’d be willing to accept it.  We’re only here because my brother believes we can work together to reach a common goal.  I don’t trust you and I don’t like you but an enemy of my enemy will most certainly be a formidable ally.”

 

For the first time Killian saw respect in Swan’s eyes.  It burned in his gut that it wasn’t directed at him but he pushed the feelings aside.  Liam was extending an olive branch to Swan but he was also supporting Killian’s plan.  Killian was sure the importance of the moment wasn’t lost on Swan.

 

“I’m going to make some tea and then we’re going to lay everything out on the table.  Our hour’s almost up and I wouldn’t be surprised if Grumpy comes barging through that door the second it does,” Swan said as she stood from the table.  She opened her mouth to say something more but apparently thought better of it as she snapped it shut and moved from the room.

 

Liam sat at the table and Killian hesitantly followed suit.

 

“Liam, I’m sor-”

 

“I know but now is not the time for this conversation.  Captain Swan is right, we have little time before the others rejoin us and much to decide before then,” Liam clapped his hand onto Killian’s shoulder and looked at him wryly. “You’ll have one hell of a bruise before the day is done.”

 

“I’ve fared worse and as usual from your hand.  I believe you’re losing your touch brother, there’s no sign of the ringing in my ears that usually accompanies one of your hits,” Killian pressed his fingers delicately on his jaw. “Although, if I’m not mistaken I think I heard my brain rattle in my skull.”

 

“That’s only because you have so little of it left that there’s plenty of room for it to do so.”

 

“Seriously?” Swan asked incredulously as she reentered the room with three steaming mugs. “I thought I’d have to play mediator between you two just to get enough of an explanation for me to work with.”

 

“That’s the beauty of having a brother, love.  A punch thrown between them usually ends with banter as opposed to a trip to the nearest healer,” Killian grinned. “Not that it doesn’t sometimes end at the healer anyway.”

 

The corner of Swan’s mouth ticked up slightly but she covered it by making a show of depositing the mugs in front of them.  Killian took a tentative sip of his and nearly spat it back out.

 

“What the hell is this, Swan?  Are you trying to poison me?!”

 

“It’s willow bark tea.  I figured you’d appreciate something to help with what is most likely an aching jaw,” Swan shrugged as if it was nothing of consequence. “It’s also turning an interesting shade of purple but I don’t have anything for that.”

 

“No, I suppose a bit of rouge wouldn’t quite distract from it.  Although if I’m not mistaken you and the fair lady Red have no need for it,” Killian grinned and then winced as the movement pulled at his scabbed over cut.

 

"Enough with the flirting,” Liam chastised sharply.  He took a sip of his tea and then grimaced. “What is this?"

 

"Chamomile," Swan said with a sly grin, trying to cover the blush that had crept into her cheeks. "I figured you needed something to calm down."

 

Killian fought back a laugh and sipped at his own mug of vile tea.  Liam’s frown deepened and he placed the mug aside, picking up one of the waters still on the table instead.

 

“Well, Captain Swan,” Liam said, rolling the cup between his hands. “I’m sure you have questions for us but I would like to make one request.”

 

“Sure, why not?” She said with a shrug.

 

“Don’t ask any of them until we’re done telling our tale.  It’s long enough without you breaking in every five seconds with a question that would be answered if you were patient,” Liam said succinctly but without bite. “Also, don’t expect us to tell you everything because I doubt you’ll do the same when we hear your tale.”

 

“Who said anything about me talking?” Swan said defensively.  Killian noticed she sat up a little straighter, held her head a bit higher, and knew that despite what she had told him back in Senlikli getting her to talk would be like pulling teeth.

 

“You don’t get to know our secrets without us knowing a few of yours, Captain,” Liam said with a sardonic smile.

 

Killian watched as Swan sat back with a scowl.  He could see the indecision in her eyes as they flitted back and forth between him and his brother.  Finally she let her gaze rest on the table before her and breathed out an inaudible sigh.  She looked up, unerringly finding his gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly.

 

“Excellent,” Liam set the cup on the table, the thunk of the metal hitting the wood acting as a seal on their agreement. “If the rumors are true and our father is- is dead, then the Queen has become impatient and is forcing our hand.”

 

“What?”

 

“What did I say about interruptions, Captain?” Liam warned. “We were sent on this mission at behest of the Queen but against our better judgement.  Unfortunately we were not given a choice in the matter.”

 

Killian listened silently as Liam recounted their tale.  He noted that Liam left out the threat to their kingdom and bloodline but still impressed upon her the importance of them needing to succeed.  Swan nodded along as he told her of their mixed luck in finding her and the Brooke and that he had feared the Queen would take action before long.  Liam’s voice shook as he told her that he hadn’t expected her to be so merciless.

 

“That’s Regina for you,” Swan said, not unkindly. “But why go through the trouble of making it look like you killed him?”

 

Killian looked at her blankly until he realized what she meant.  He had been so distraught at the news that his father might be dead that he hadn’t truly thought about the other part of the news.

 

“I- I don’t know,” Killian furrowed his brow and tried to think logically around his swirling emotions. “We set up the ruse to make it seem that I was in Misthaven for an extended stay and Liam was headed to Glowerhaven.  I thought that once the Jewel was seen heading further south, to Agrabah, that people would realize something else was going on.”

 

“You forget, brother, that no one knew you boarded the Jewel when we anchored in Mistaven,” Liam said with a sigh. “If the Queen had been planning this then she would have made sure to keep up the appearances that you were her guest.  Away from our kingdom we’re not exactly well known outside of the courts or with the lower classes.  Even Captain Swan had no idea who you were and as royalty she should.”

 

“In my defense I haven’t been keeping up with the court gossip and believe it or not I don’t really pay attention to much outside of what Regina has been doing to my kingdom.  The only reason I knew about you two at all is because of the annoying habit of the ships from your kingdom defending the waters near Misthaven,” Swan’s voice trailed off as she pursed her lips in thought. “Why didn’t I know about you two?  It felt like I met every eligible prince in the realm when I turned sixteen, even if I wanted to or not.  Your kingdom isn’t far from Misthaven, why am I only meeting you now?”

 

“I, and Killian, have wondered about that as well,” Liam said thoughtfully. “My only conclusion is that it was orchestrated that way by our parents.  Yours because of mistrust on where our kingdom’s loyalties lied and ours because of the complicity with the Queen’s plans even through her exile.  On behalf of our parents I apologize.”

 

Swan waved her hand, “No need… um, I’m not sure if I should call you Captain or your Majesty or what.  Either way what are you going to do now?”

 

“Liam is fine, although I would appreciate it if you’d continue calling me William or Jones outside of these walls.  While it may be known I sail with the Jewel it would not be wise to alert anyone that I’m travelling without protection, especially now.  Same goes for you Killian,” Liam turned to him, impressing upon him with intense eyes the seriousness of his words. “You are to answer only to Kieran or Jones.  Especially if…”

 

“If what?” Killian was wary of the sudden hesitancy in Liam’s voice. “If what, Liam?”

 

“When will they be back with the messenger in tow?” Liam asked Swan in lieu of answering Killian’s question.

 

“Oh, um, any time now.  If Grumpy hasn’t found him then Red won’t have any trouble with it,” she answered, looking at Liam closely.

 

“Good, then I have one question for you before they return,” Liam glanced quickly at Killian before turning his full attention to Swan. “Why should we trust you?”

 

Swan’s eyebrows raised considerably and her mouth dropped open slightly.  Killian shifted in his seat but contemplated the question for himself.  They had no reason to trust her, not really.  She could use them for ransom or commandeer the Jewel and use her to expand her pirating on the seas.  What Swan wouldn’t do was kill them. However, if she turned against them in any way it would be as if she crushed their hearts with her own hand.  The Queen had already proven she would show them no mercy.

 

“For the same reason I’m going to go against my better judgement and trust you two,” Swan said carefully. “Because if I don’t we’re all screwed.”

 

“We’re on the same page, then,” Killian mused. “Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

 

Liam chuckled beside him and picked the cup of water back up.  Killian followed suit with his mug of tea despite the awful taste.  The throbbing had subsided and the pinching at the base of his skull had all but disappeared so he resolved to drink the whole thing.  They drank quietly, Swan picking at the food on the table and waited for the others, having nothing left to say until they knew more.

 

Ten minutes later they heard the door open and several people enter the house.  Grumpy filed in first, his grin wide and toothy, he was followed by Pinocchio and the other dwarves, behind them was a small wiry man wearing simple brown clothes but bearing the messenger crest of their kingdom, Red brought up the rear.  Killian waited for Thompson or Turner to make an appearance but as the others situated themselves around the table it was obvious they weren’t back yet.

 

“Where are my men?” Liam asked gruffly.

 

“They thought that they needed to get your message to the rest of your crew as quickly as possible,” Red explained. “I told them we would wait but the stuffy one insisted.  The other one wasn’t so pleased.”

 

“Sounds like Thompson,” Killian said under his breath to Liam. “Should we wait for them?”

 

“No, we’ll need to get back to the Jewel to explain the situation as soon as possible.  It’s best we find out what we need to know now,” Liam murmured back.  He turned to the stranger, “What’s your name?”

 

The man looked up at Liam.  He had light brown hair and upon closer inspection seemed to be around Killian’s own age.  With what Killian knew of their messengers that meant the man, if he was truly from their kingdom, had been in their service since he was a boy.

 

“Jim, Sir,” the man answered.

 

“Jim, how long have you been a messenger for Balliolshire?”

 

“For nigh on twenty years, Sir.  I worked my way up from the magistrate in my village to the palace.  It was a great honor to be chosen as a messenger sent to neighboring kingdoms just a few years ago.  My mother was beside herself with joy,” Jim’s chest puffed up in pride.

 

“How have you found yourself so far from Balliolshire’s shores?  Surely you’ve not sailed here directly from there?” Killian asked taking over the questioning.

 

“Oh, no, Sir.  I was merely waiting in Glowerhaven for the Jewel to arrive.  I had been sent there months before with the announcement that Crown Prince Liam was on the way.  It was intended for me to return to Balliolshire aboard the Jewel when it returned but it never came.  Then the Sapphire arrived instead.  Along with it the news that the King had been killed.  I was given new orders, to leave immediately on a ship and spread the news throughout the ports that had seen the Jewel in hopes that word would reach His Royal Highness and he would return to Balliolshire and assume the throne,” Jim paused for breath and then suddenly his eyes widened. “Your Highness!”

 

Jim stood up suddenly and dropped into a deep bow, nearly hitting his head on the edge of the table.  Swan and her crew looked on amused but Liam was wearing a deep frown, one that Killian felt on his own face.  Jim straightened and turned in Killian’s direction, repeating the title and bowing again.  When he stood straight again he refused to sit.

 

“It’s not proper,” he explained, his voice wavering with nervousness. “Someone of my station has no right to sit amongst royalty in such an informal fashion.”

 

“I assure you  nothing about this is proper, Jim,” Liam sighed but didn’t press the issue. “Who from the Sapphire gave you the orders to find the Jewel?”

 

“Captain Meins himself.  He was also the one to secure a ship for the task and provided them with a few of his own sailors when a crew wasn’t going to be put together fast enough.”

 

“Why did he not come himself?” Killian questioned.

 

“He had to return to Balliolshire,” Jim answered quickly. “The kingdom is in upheaval with the King murdered and one of his sons to blame.  I didn’t think it was really you, Your Highness, but you were seen leaving the King’s chambers only minutes before his body was discovered.”

 

“So it’s true,” Killian felt as though he’d been punched again but in the stomach for the breath had been completely knocked out of him.

 

“I’m afraid so, Your Highness,” Jim said quietly, voice wavering in grief. “The guards at the King’s door thought nothing was amiss apparently.”

 

“They wouldn’t,” Liam explained. “They’re instructed to question everyone who approaches except for Killian or I.  We never hid that knowledge and it has proven to be a deadly mistake.”

 

“Then it could only have been Regina,” Swan mused.  Killian looked up at her surprised, he had completely forgotten that there were others in the room. “She’s the only one powerful enough to cast a glamour spell and she would have known about the guards at your father’s door.”

 

“The Queen also would have known just the blow to strike to bring us in line and have our kingdom at her mercy,” Liam sighed and it sounded like a broken, weary thing. “I must return to Balliolshire immediately.”

 

“Liam?” Killian looked at him bewildered.

 

“Captain Swan, can I trust you?” Liam was staring at Swan with the focus of a man intent on reading every secret in a person’s heart.

 

Swan seemed taken aback until her eyes widened slightly in understanding, “Yes, you can.”

 

Killian had no idea what had passed between his brother and Swan.  Liam nodded, mostly to himself, and then looked over the others.

 

“No one must know what has transpired here, no matter how much you trust the rest of your crew.”

 

“These are my closest advisors and friends,” Swan said fiercely. “They’ll keep it to themselves because I’m pretty sure you have a plan that depends on it.  What about your crew?”

 

“Only Turner and Thompson will be privy to what we discuss here.  The rest of the crew is already in the dark about our true purpose.  After we confirm the news about our father they’ll be just as eager to return home,” Liam glanced quickly at Killian before looking back at Swan. “What I’m about to propose will decide the fate of our kingdoms.  We have little time to debate so I’ll need your answer now.”

 

“I have a feeling I don’t have much of a choice to say no,” Swan said dryly.

 

“Oh, there’s always a choice Captain Swan.  The real question is which one can you live with?” Liam took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are you prepared to take back your kingdom and be rid of the Queen once and for all?”

 

“No, but I’m willing to do it all the same.  She’s destroyed too many lives for me to ignore anymore,” Swan said sadly but fiercely.

 

“Do you accept our help and the assistance our kingdom can supply, even if it is far less than what the Queen has at her disposal?”

 

“It’s better than what I’ve got now, which is next to nothing.  So, yeah, I accept.”

 

Liam nodded and then glanced at Killian again.  He felt a cold lump of dread settle in his stomach at the heartbreak in his brother’s eyes.

 

“Together, we’ll sail back to Senlikli.  From there we’ll part ways, I’ll return to Balliolshire with the Jewel and hopefully a few of your crew here,” Liam said looking back across the table and gesturing at those standing behind Swan. “You will sail to whatever safe port you use near Misthaven.  Killian and Thompson will go with you.”

 

Silence fell over the room.  No one looked at each other except for Killian and Liam.  Killian couldn’t believe what he had heard but he could see the confirmation in Liam’s reluctance to meet his gaze fully.

 

“No, Liam, I should return to Balliolshire with you!  Father is dead and you want me to ignore that and go off with Swan?  Not bloody likely,” Killian said, incensed.

 

“We have no choice, Killian!” Liam barked angrily, eyes blazing as he locked eyes with him. “You are most likely a wanted man now and not only in our kingdom.  The Queen has planned it so that we are meant to be separated, either by your arrest or your death.  If I can take advantage of her schemes then I shall, even if it means we cannot grieve for Father properly.”

 

Liam’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat gruffly.  Killian was horrified to find that he was fighting back tears.  Too much was happening at once and he had no time to process any of it.  His father was dead and he had been framed for it, Liam was now King to their kingdom which was in turmoil, and Killian could do nothing about any of it.  He had never felt so helpless, or hopeless.

 

“When do we sail?” Swan asked quietly, gently.

 

“With the morning tide,” Liam answered her but kept his eyes on Killian.

 

“So, it’s decided then,” Killian said lowly.

 

“I’m afraid it is, brother,” Liam smiled sadly. “I’m afraid it is.”


	8. Parting Ways

“It’s a nice night for it, isn’t it?”

 

Killian had heard the over exaggerated sounds of someone climbing the mast.  They had most likely thought they were doing him a favor by either giving him the chance to appear awake if he had been asleep or ensuring he wasn’t scared half out of his wits when their head popped over the side of the crow’s nest.  He had been awake and aware so their attempts were for nothing but he was surprised by who it was that was joining him so high above the Jewel’s deck.

 

“I suppose it is,” he answered as he turned starboard to greet Red as she gracefully climbed in beside him. “Although, if you’ve come to relieve me I dare say you’re a bit early.”

 

“Your brother doesn’t trust me enough yet to assign me any kind of watch duty, even if I’ve been on this ship for almost a month now,” Red gave an exasperated but amused sigh as she adjusted her cloak on her shoulders. “I came up here because it’s what I do on the Brooke when there’s a full moon and I can’t sleep.”

 

“Does the moonlight bother you?  I’m sure there’s a spare bit of cloth lying around somewhere to cover the porthole in your cabin,” Killian offered, ready to climb down and find it himself.

 

“Don’t bother, it’s an unfortunate affliction I’ve had for as long as I can remember.  I’m usually assigned the night watch on the Brooke during this time and I figured I might as well continue with the habit I’ve become accustomed to over the years,” Red smiled at him and turned to face the prow of the ship.

 

He hummed, knowing what she meant but curious all the same.  She was a fine sailor, of that there was no doubt, but there was something about her movements and bearing on the sea that spoke of a longing for solid ground under her feet.  It was glaringly obvious to him as he had been constantly out on the water practically from the moment of his birth, first with his father and then in the Academy.  Killian was awed and a little bit disheartened by the loyalty the woman had for her princess.  Aside from Thompson he knew of no one who would follow him as blindly as Swan’s crew had followed her into the unknown.

 

Liam had been true to his word.  After sending Jim back to his ship with the strict orders to not reveal that he had seen them and a few other instructions they had waited for Turner and Thompson to return to the house they had been holed up in.  In the meantime Liam had started consulting charts with a reluctant Pinocchio and an eager Grumpy while Swan issued orders to the rest of her crew to prepare for their sudden departure.

 

Killian had been surprised by Swan’s compliance with Liam’s orders that they all be ready to sail by the next morning.  He had watched as she sent her crew back out into the marketplace, all except for Red.  As she had worked she had given him occasional glances, some tinged with annoyance but others with what he would have thought as concern.  If he could believe she held nothing but mild contempt for him that was.

 

Swan had gone on to surprise them all by suggesting an exchange of sorts to solidify their tenuous trust with each other.  It would have been unwise for the Jewel and the Brooke to sail side by side, not only would it have given away their plan to the Queen but other kingdoms would assume that either the Jewel had fallen to pirates or had aligned herself with them.  She’d had a stubborn set to her jaw and a defiant look in her eye as she explained her idea but not even Liam had found a fault with it.

 

They would trade a crew member, one that they trusted implicitly, to make the voyage to Senlikli aboard the other ship.  Red had given them a little wave at that point and Swan had nearly had to restrain Pinocchio when he had protested.  He had insisted he be the one to go until Killian had pointed out that he couldn’t.  Hewitt knew who he was and the Jewel’s crew needed to remain unaware of the alliance they had formed.

 

Thompson had made a similar argument as Pinocchio when he and Turner had returned and been informed of the decisions made in their absence.  Liam had been the one to deny him his request stating that Turner would be the one to go.  When Killian boarded the Brooke in Senlikli Thompson would be joining him and it would be suspicious if he had joined them alone in Agrabah and suddenly found a friend in Senlikli.  What went unsaid, but was understood by everyone there, was that Liam would be expecting a full report of the goings on of the Brooke.  He trusted no one but Turner for that, even more so than he did Killian.

 

Swan had assured them that she frequently provided passage for persons looking to sail from one land to another.  Her crew would think nothing was amiss if Turner joined them and then disembarked with Killian and Thompson taking his place.  She had smirked and looked pointedly at Killian when she told them it was a far easier to make money off of people fleeing corrupt kingdoms than pillaging their ships.

 

Thompson had seemingly taken personal offence to the insinuation.  Although he said nothing aloud he had argued all the more for him to be the one to be sent with the Brooke.  It was only when Swan threatened to run him through with a sword and Liam threatened to hold him in the brig that he relented.  Killian had been ready to apologize for Thompson’s behavior but Swan had thrown him a look of disdain and he had kept his mouth shut instead.

 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Red’s voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the moonlit crow’s nest.

 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Killian hedged, wary that she was some kind of mind reader along with her preternatural hearing.  He honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

 

“Emma, she doesn’t hate you.  I’d even go so far as to say she doesn’t not like you either,” Red mused to herself. “Annoyed by you, yes, but not hate.”

 

“I don’t think that Captain Swan hates me,” Killian said, hoping his tone didn’t sound as petulant as he feared it might.

 

“Maybe not, I’m just letting you know that she doesn’t,” Red smiled at him and then grew serious. “She doesn’t trust easily, I’m sure you can understand why.  Don’t give her reason to lose her trust in you.”

 

“Trust?  In me?” Killian asked, shocked.

 

“Hmm,” Red looked at him closely and he had to physically force himself from shying away.  He felt she could read his every thought as her eyes bored into his. “There’s a reason I left that note for you to follow us to Agrabah.  I’ve known Emma all her life, I’m her godmother as a matter of fact, and you’re the first person she’s met that she can’t stop complaining about.”

 

“If that constitutes trust then rest assured she has mine as well,” Killian grumbled, turning away from the amused look settling on Red’s face.

 

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” she said laughing. “You know, I think I’ll head back to my cabin and start packing my things.”

 

“Wha- what?” Killian’s head was spinning from both the implication of her words and the turn in the conversation.

 

“We’ve reached Senlikli earlier than I thought.  It’s not that I haven’t had a fine time travelling on the Jewel but I’m ready to be back on the Brooke,” Red gathered her skirts and cloak and readied herself to climb down.

 

“Wait, how can you possibly know where we are?”

 

“I can smell the trees.”

 

Killian looked out across the water, trying to make out even the slightest hint of land.  Even in the bright light of the full moon he couldn’t see much past the wake of the ship behind them and the calm waters surrounding them.  He would have found it peaceful but his thoughts were tumbling around like cargo broken loose in the hold during a storm.  There was nothing he could see that indicated land was near and before he could question Red about it she was already halfway down the mast.

 

It was a lucky thing that they ran into no trouble the rest of the night.  Killian’s attention hadn’t remained on his duties as look out for long.  His spyglass had remained collapsed at his side and if it weren’t for the odd movement of one of the crew below he wouldn’t have truly been aware of any time passing.

 

His thoughts had run the gamut from his father’s death and the path it had set him and Liam on.  To the Queen and her machinations that had been moving them all around like pieces on a board of a game he had only just learned he had been playing.  Then there was Captain Swan, the princess turned pirate and seemingly the only person he and his brother could trust to help avenge their father and stop the Queen.  She was also the one person he couldn’t purge from his thoughts no matter how hard he tried.

 

The sun had risen in the East in brilliant hues of pink and orange.  Killian had been relieved by a midshipman whose name he couldn’t recall in his exhausted state about an hour before but he had remained on deck, not quite ready to retire to his cabin.  Thompson snored on the best of days and Killian had found that it was particularly annoying when they both had duties overnight.  He felt as though he needed just a few minutes more of solitude before going below deck, if only to delude himself into believing he had cleared his head.

 

Footsteps sounded across the deck behind him as the crew went about their morning inspections and duties.  It was easy to pick out Liam’s among them, heavy but measured walking to and fro across the deck slowly working his way to Killian’s side.  For his part Killian remained leaning against the rail staring out at the expanse of sea off the starboard side.  There was still no land to be seen but he had thought he too could smell pine on the wind.  Although it could have been his imagination led on by Red’s suggestion.

 

“I half expected you to be asleep by now,” Liam said conversationally as he placed his forearms on the rail, mirroring Killian’s position.

 

“As did I but-” Killian shrugged and looking over at Liam saw the understanding in his eyes.

 

“Aye, I can’t close my eyes without Father’s face waiting for me to do so,” Liam sighed deeply and hunched in on himself. “Do you think he knew?  When he sent us on this mission do you think he knew he’d not live to see us return?”

 

“Truthfully?” Killian watched as Liam brought his shoulders up to his ears and then give him a small nod. “I don’t know.  He may have had a suspicion or perhaps even a distinct fear but I cannot believe that he knew for certain.  Father may have been in the Queen’s favor but she has been controlling things and bending them to her will for many years.”

 

“She’ll pay for what she’s done, I can promise you that,” Liam’s voice shook with conviction and his hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white.

 

“I’ll be by your side when she does, brother, but for now we have more pressing matters,” Killian looked around ascertaining they were alone before continuing. “Are you sure we’re choosing the best course of action?  I could easily return home with you and we’d set the rumors straight.  No cloak and dagger, although a sword or two might be involved, just us rallying our kingdom behind us and ending the Queen once and for all.”

 

“Killian, we’ve discussed this time and again and my answer is still the same.  There’s too much at stake for both of us to return and become easy targets for another assassin.  As long as the Queen has no idea where you are and that I’m right where she wants me we’re safe,” Liam said vehemently, as though he was convincing himself. “Captain Swan is our only hope of securing enough men and women to have a standing army to go up against the Queen.  We may control the seas but her dark knights are numerous and spread throughout her kingdom.  She may not know it but the subjects of Misthaven are still very much loyal to her parents and by extension her.”

 

“And if you’re killed? Poison slipped into your food or a well timed arrow as you pass through the gardens, what then?  The people will follow you Liam, it’s always been expected that they would at one time or another, but me?  No, I’m not fit to lead and no one in their right mind would remain in the kingdom as my subjects.”

 

Killian didn’t state that if Liam died he would have nothing left worth clinging to.  They’d had their differences over the years, barely spoken at times, but his brother was the most important thing in his life.  The thought that he may very well have to live without him was so abhorrent he shied away from it completely.  It was easier to argue for the people than it was for himself.

 

“While I’m not going to spend my days looking over my shoulder and jumping at shadows I will be more cautious than Father,” Liam said quietly. “Turner has already vowed to not leave my side, which will become a right pain in the ass after a day or two but we’ll both grit our teeth and bear it.  I cannot do much more than increase the guard and perhaps install a poison taster in the kitchens but we both know the Queen will simply use her magic if she’s determined enough to kill me.”

 

“You’re not exactly giving me peace of mind,” Killian grumbled, stomach rolling at the turn their conversation had taken.

 

“It wasn’t my intention to.  We were fools when we accepted this mission.  We should have fought harder against it, questioned why now, why Captain Swan when there are a multitude of pirates sailing the waters, perhaps even disobeyed orders and had one of us remain behind but we didn’t.  I’ve known not to trust the Queen and yet still believed that Father’s alliance with her would grant him immunity.  I won’t make that mistake again.

 

“Alas, we cannot predict the future Killian and you must prepare yourself for the possibility that one day you will have to rule.  You are an excellent captain and you have more than proven yourself to be a capable leader of your sailors over the years.  I’m also surprised that you haven’t already figured out that despite the difference in approach you’ve been schooled in ruling the kingdom as much as I have.”

 

Liam looked smug as he turned around and leaned up against the rail with his arms crossed.  Killian narrowed his eyes at him.  He didn’t appear to be teasing but there was a smirk on his lips that told Killian otherwise.

 

“We were having a serious conversation, Liam, I don’t need you to treat it as a joke.  Not now.”

 

Rolling his eyes Liam leaned in close and looked around dramatically, as though he was about to impart a deeply held secret, “Why do you think Father sent you on all the diplomatic missions for the kingdom?  I promise you it’s not because of your reputation with the lasses.”

 

Killian opened his mouth to protest but stilled when the implication of Liam’s words sunk in.  He had never thought to question why it was him that traveled the realm to various kingdoms.  For the most part he had assumed that it was to give him something to do instead of growing restless in the castle and causing the trouble he had believed Liam and his father thought him capable of.  It had rankled at times, that he was sent away time and again while Liam remained seemingly currying the favor of the court and revelling in the attention of their father.

 

“A little warning would have been nice.  What if I had caused tensions with an ally or inadvertently started a war over a trade agreement?  Bloody hell, that’s a ridiculous amount of faith you put in me,” he ran a shaky hand through his hair as he thought of all the times exactly that or worse could have happened.

 

“There was never a moment I didn’t think you were more than capable of handling it,” Liam assured him.

 

“And Father?” Killian asked wryly, watching Liam’s smile falter minutely.

 

“Let’s just say he was convinced after you returned from DunBroch with all your parts intact,” Liam’s smile widened and he chuckled before turning serious. “I know that he was proud of you Killian and I’m sorry that you’ll never know how much.  By stopping the Queen, ending her villainous reign, perhaps we can grant Father peace and become the true leaders our people deserve.  Can I count on you to be by my side, even though we’re physically apart?”

 

“Of course, Liam, to the ends of the earth.  Always,’’ Killian said vehemently as he tried in vain to tamp down the emotions swirling through him.

 

“Good,” Liam said gruffly, clearing his throat as he clapped his hand onto his shoulder. “You should try to get some sleep.  We’ve had a bit of luck on our side with the wind and should be arriving in Senlikli by sunset.”

 

“What?” Killian asked, surprised.  He had just about convinced himself that Red had been mistaken about their proximity to land. “Are you sure?”

 

“Doubting me already?  Poor form, brother,” Liam grinned as he pushed himself off the rail to stand at his full height. “Get some rest and I expect you to be back on deck ready to assist the navigation of the harbor.  That’s an order.”

 

Killian scowled as Liam strolled away from him grinning as he issued orders in his wake.  He hesitated for a moment but suddenly the thought of his bunk, even with the lumpy mattress and scratchy sheets, was a siren’s song he was happy to follow.

 

Thompson’s snores filled the cabin when he entered but Killian knew he’d only have to endure them for an hour or so seeing as Thompson had been on duty only halfway through the night.  As he pulled off his boots and stripped down to his pants he worried that the thoughts that had plagued him on his watch coupled with his conversation with Liam would stave off the sleep he desperately craved.  The moment his head hit the pillow, however, he slipped easily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

When he woke hours later Killian felt well rested but still on edge.  He knew that it was his final moments aboard the Jewel for who knew how long.  Thompson’s bunk was empty and Killian was grateful for it.  It gave him the few moments of quiet he needed to get his head on straight and prepare himself for the maelstrom that had become his life in the preceding months and was waiting for him the moment he would step back onto the deck.

 

He dressed slowly and methodically.  His uniform and any other indication of his rank and title would have to remain behind.  Thompson’s uniform was neatly folded at the foot of his bunk so Killian did the same, not without reluctance.  When he finished dressing and closed his pack that was filled with the few things he could bring along he was overcome with a melancholy he had felt only a few times before.  It was a pang of longing to return home to his chambers and his books, to his family, and forget the obligations that prevented it from happening.

 

With a huff and a shake of his head Killian banished the thoughts of home and wishes of a different life and headed topside.  The deck was a flurry of activity.  The crew was busy preparing the ship for eventual anchoring in the Senlikli harbor, which Killian could see clearly in the fading light of the day.  Burnt oranges, dusky yellows, inky blues and hazy purples battled each other for dominance in the sky as the Sun crept further and further into the horizon.  Killian breathed in deeply, soaking in the final rays of sunlight he’d experience on the Jewel.  When he would next feel the warmth of the light he’d most likely be sailing to places unknown on the Brooke.

 

“Are you ready to escort me through town Mister Jones?” Red asked mockingly as she dropped her bag at their feet.

 

Liam hadn’t given an official order but it was understood that Red was to be under Killian’s watch whenever they made port.  While he had refrained from trailing behind her like a dog nipping at her heels he had earned the unfortunate nickname of Shadow from his fellow shipmates.  He had a strong suspicion that Thompson had been the one to encourage its use.

 

“Of course, but seeing as the Brooke is nowhere in sight we won’t be disembarking for some time yet,” Killian made an exaggerated sweeping look of the harbor as the Jewel slowly sailed in at the direction of the harbormaster that had boarded at some point. “Seems your prediction of arriving today didn’t extend to the arrival of the Brooke.”

 

“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean she’s not here,” Red scoffed. “We’re a pirate vessel and while some ports are more forgiving than others Emma doesn’t like to take the chance.  The Jewel may be the fastest ship in the realm but unlike some captains Emma’s not afraid to use everything to her advantage.  I’m sure that small storm that forced us to anchor at port till it passed gave her the opportunity to pull ahead.”

 

“She would sail in a storm and endanger the life of her crew and the integrity of her ship just to gain a day or two?” Killian was slightly horrified, yet somewhat impressed at the gall.

 

“A day or two can be the difference between capture and hanging or freedom and a few torn sails,” Red said simply. “They’re here and we’re late.”

 

Killian was left gaping as Red picked up her bag and went to stand by the rail where a rowboat was being prepared to take them to shore.  He didn’t understand how he kept getting bested in conversations with the women of the Brooke and he feared he wouldn’t for a long while to come.  It was the return of the sobering thought of leaving the Jewel that got him moving to help the sailors with the final tasks of anchoring.

 

When they finally stepped foot on dry land Killian was barely afforded a chance to glance back at the Jewel before Red was making her way confidently through the crowds.  There was no festival as there had been the last time they had been there but there were still a good many people roaming the docks.  While Senlikli was far enough south that winter’s icy fingers couldn’t get a firm grasp there was a chill in the air that set people’s feet moving just a touch faster as the sun finally ceded the day to night.

 

Just as in Agrabah only Liam, Thompson, and Turner accompanied Killian as he followed Red to where they were to meet with Swan.  Neither woman had given up exactly where the meeting was to take place which meant that the others had to trail unhappily behind.  Killian smirked as he heard their quiet grumbling, they were getting a taste of what he had been doing since Red had joined them.

 

“At the pace she’s keeping you’d think she’d want us to get lost in the crowds,” Thompson murmured as he fell into step beside Killian. “Are you sure she’s not going to ditch us as soon as she can?”

 

“No, but I have a feeling she’s excited by the prospect of what our presence will do to the dynamic aboard the Brooke,” Killian said ruefully as he adjusted his pack on his shoulder. “What are we getting ourselves into?”

 

“No idea,” Thompson said cheerfully, using his own pack to nudge Killian. “Good thing the fate of multiple kingdoms, not to mention everyone you’re close to, rests on this ridiculous plan working.  I mean it’s not like the Queen can just rip out our hearts and crush them at her whim or anything.  Oh wait, she absolutely can.”

 

“Thank you for reminding me of the impossibilities we’ve set ourselves up to accomplish, Tommy.  There’s nothing quite like a cold dash of reality to set me on edge even more than I already am.”

 

“Ah, relax Kil.  Think of it this way, if we fail we won’t have to worry about it for long because we’ll be dead.”

 

Killian grimaced as he turned down the alley he had seen Red turn down ahead of them.  Thompson’s cheery pessimistic attitude would only worsen as they continued on their journey, especially without the presence of sailors he knew but Killian was almost thankful for it.  The good natured complaining would keep his own sanity in tact as they moved forward with their plans.

 

They followed Red and her namesake cloak through several more turns down alleys and across cobbled pathways.  Liam and Turner didn’t speak much but Thompson took care of that by continually questioning Red’s moves and every so often Swan’s true motives.  Killian tuned him out and focused on keeping the red cloak he was following in sight.

 

Finally they turned a corner and saw Red standing in front of a recessed door in an alley not unlike several of the others they had already passed through.

 

“If I had wanted to lose you I would have done it the second we stepped off the boat,” Red said, addressing Thompson. “And don’t think I’m going to ignore what you said about Emma either.”

 

Killian let out a surprised laugh which only became louder at the look of offence on Thompson’s face.  Liam smiled and Turner frowned as Red smirked and knocked on the door in front of her.  A moment later the door was opened and they were ushered inside by a dwarf, but not one of the ones he had met in Agrabah.  They were led through a kitchen and into a private room but Killian nearly stopped in his tracks as he glimpsed a familiar tavern through a set of doors they walked past.

 

“Here?” He asked as he was nudged into the room by the dwarf who closed the door behind him. “Why are we meeting Swan here?”

 

“What do you mean?” Liam was looking at him worriedly, craning his neck to look through the door they had come through. “Do you know where we are?”

 

“That tavern, the one you took me to when we first came here,” Killian explained unable to keep the confusion out of his voice.

 

“Good stew, bad ale?” Liam asked with surprise that was quickly shifting to suspicion.

 

“Watch it,” Red snapped. “My grandmother runs this tavern.  She may be close to ninety but she doesn’t take insults lightly.”

 

“Your grandmother?” Killian turned toward her still trying to understand.

 

“She’s Granny to everyone but yeah she’s my grandmother,” Red shrugged and sat down on one side of the long table that took up most of the room. “You got the bad ale because she either didn’t like the look of you or someone tipped her off to who you were.  I’d say the former since Pinocchio really doesn’t like any of you.”

 

“That’s a comfort,” Liam grumbled as he too sat down. “I’m so glad I’m sending Killian and Thompson with people who will watch their back.”

 

“Relax, Your Highness,” Red said good naturedly, her smile back. “Pinocchio doesn’t really like anyone who lies, it’s a thing with him.”

 

“How does he reconcile that with the whole piracy bit?” Thompson asked incredulously. “Not to mention keeping the whole ‘I sail under Misthaven’s missing princess’ under wraps.”

 

“He’s not much for talking, if you haven’t noticed,” Red said simply.

 

There wasn’t much else to say after that.  Killian, Thompson and Turner joined Liam and Red at the table.  The dwarf returned at one point with food and drinks, a much better ale in the mugs but the famed stew in the bowls.  Red thanked him, calling him Bashful and asked about Swan.  Bashful informed them with red stained cheeks that she would join them shortly.

True to his word Swan entered the room only a few minutes later.  Bashful came in ahead of her and she was followed by Pinocchio and an elderly woman Killian assumed was Granny by the way Red greeted her affectionately.  Everyone remained quiet as Bashful set down the food and drink he had brought with him in front of Swan and Granny who had sat at opposite ends of the table and Pinocchio who had taken the seat open on Red’s left.  With a nod from Swan Bashful was dismissed and the closing of the door seemed to ratchet up the tension tenfold.

 

“I must say you’re looking rather becoming Captain Swan,” Thompson said jovially, eye closing in a wink. “Quite a departure from ballroom gowns I’d guess.”

 

“It is,” Swan said saccharinely sweet. “Much like your tongue will take a departure from your mouth if you speak to me like that again.”

 

Killian snorted into his ale, which he’d had the misfortune of sipping from to cover his embarrassment at Thompson’s behavior.  Looking up at Swan he saw her eyes were glittering with mirth and her arm was resting below the table, most likely on the hilt of her sword he had noticed buckled at her waist.  Thompson wasn’t wrong, Swan was dressed similarly to what she had been wearing when he first encountered her but in soft browns and taupes with the same black boots on her feet.  Her hair was once again pulled back from her face, leaving it open for scrutiny and his own secret perusal.

 

“Pleasure to see you again Your Highness,” Liam said unsteadily, trying to keep his own laughter in check.

 

“I’d say likewise but I’m not so sure now,” Swan frowned. “And don’t call me that, it’s just Captain or Swan, I haven’t been a royal for a long time.”

 

“Maybe not in title but it’s in your blood, lass,” Liam smiled gently. “There’s no hiding the fact no matter how much you deny it.  I’ve not seen you in action but you carry yourself as all us royals do, like we’ve had a rod stuck up our ass and we’ve forgotten it’s there.”

 

It was Granny who had the misfortune of taking a drink at the wrong moment and Turner’s left sleeve suffered for it.  Killian wasn’t sure what delighted him more: Liam’s off color remark or the look of pure offense marring Turner’s features.  Either way he found himself laughing harder than he had in longer than he could remember.

 

“I like him Emma,” Granny said, laughing as well as she patted Turner’s arm with a rag. “Looks like Balliolshire will finally get a decent ruler sitting on their throne.”

 

“I thank you for the compliment, my lady,” Liam nodded at Granny before turning back to Swan. “I would also like to apologize for Thompson’s remarks and hope that they caused no offense.  Seeing as he’ll be under your command shortly I’ll leave the punishment for his impertinence up to you.”

 

Killian sobered immediately.  He seemed unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he wouldn’t be returning with Liam to the Jewel.  It was as if the fact of it was a length of rope that somehow kept untying itself and tripping him up at inopportune moments.  No matter the knots he used it would find a way around his feet, causing his thoughts to stumble on themselves into the reality of what needed to be done.

 

“About that.”

 

Swan said it with the air of someone delivering bad news, her mouth twisting in discomfort.  Killian braced himself for whatever she had to say.  From the way she was shifting in her chair he knew it was bound to be a devastating blow.

 

“The Queen has sent her dark knights on raids of all the ports in Misthaven and posted sentries in the ports of neighboring kingdoms that won’t dare to stand up to her.  Including the few that had previously been safe enough to stay for longer than a day or two.  I have nowhere I can take the Brooke where she won’t be recognized immediately and draw those idiots right to us.”

 

“Why now?  We haven’t exactly been in hiding and she knows what the Brooke looks like, or at least has people in her prisons that do,” Red was indignant. “I don’t believe that this is a coincidence.”

 

“What are you saying, Red?” Swan asked, a tone of warning in her voice.

 

“She’s saying there’s a spy amongst your crew,” Killian said.  They were the first words he had spoken since Swan’s arrival and he regretted that they weren’t ones she was willing to hear. “There’s no other way the Queen would know to send the dark knights to the ports.”

 

“And why is my crew the one being accused?  It could have easily been someone from the precious Jewel or even that messenger you so willingly sent on his way with nothing more than a stern warning.  You can’t place all the suspicion on me,” Swan was breathing hard, her hands flat on the tabletop but her knuckles were white with strain.

 

“Apologies, Swan, but there’s no other explanation,” Killian said calmly, almost soothingly. “The messenger might have known of our plans but you saw his loyalty to us, even with the rumors that I was the one to kill our father.  He’s also been helping us in the only way he can.”

 

“What do you mean?” Red asked.

 

Killian could see that Swan wanted to know the answer just as much but was still wrestling with her anger.  Pinocchio and Granny were watching him carefully, silently judging what he had to say.

 

“As the ship he was on makes its way back to Glowerhaven he’s letting word spread that the news of our father’s death has reached Liam’s ears.”

 

“That’s it?  I have to believe he hasn’t gone blabbing about where I was taking the Brooke based off that?” Swan interrupted, scoffing.

 

“No,” Killian snapped, then dragged in a deep breath. He saw Liam nod out of the corner of his eye. “Jim is also telling anyone who will listen that Liam is returning to Balliolshire not only to assume the throne but to hunt me down and make me pay for my crimes.”

 

“Pay for your crimes?” Granny looked at him shrewdly.

 

“Aye.  The punishment for taking another’s life in Balliolshire is hanging.  Killing a member of the royal household is beheading,” Killian shuddered and clenched his fist before continuing. “Murdering the King, the most heinous of crimes, gets you hanged, drawn and quartered but only after being flogged to ensure that the motive behind the killing is given.”

 

“To think that we thought Regina was overdramatic ripping out hearts and crushing them,” Swan said lightly.  All traces of anger were gone.

 

“We haven’t had to use the gallows in over forty years.  It’s been three centuries since a king has been murdered,” Liam said tightly. “We need the Queen to believe that she can hold some sway over me.  She knows that Killian is with me but by spreading this rumor it will make her believe that she has a chance at getting me on her side, much like she did with our father.”

 

“She’d believe that you’d turn on your brother so quickly?” Swan looked at Killian and he stared right back. “I’ve seen how close you guys are, how quick to jump to the other’s defence.”

 

“It hasn’t always been like that, Swan,” Killian sighed, dropping his eyes to the table. “Our kingdom knows full well that Liam and I don’t quite see eye to eye on some matters.  To them it will seem logical if a little harsh that Liam would spare me no mercy, to the Queen it is inevitable.  Liam needs to secure the trust and loyalty of our people and capturing the murderer of their beloved King, even if it’s his brother, would do just that.”

 

Silence followed Killian’s statement.  He had lost several nights sleep when Liam had explained it all to him along with Turner and Thompson.  They had no way to fight him on it, they had been at sea for days with Jim already following the orders.  When they made port along the way to Senlikli they quickly found out that Liam’s motives were spreading well ahead of their voyage.

 

“So, it’s not the messenger but what about your crew?” Swan asked.  She didn’t sound accusatory, just wanting to know all the facts.

 

“Aside from Turner and Thompson no one on the crew knows of our alliance.  They believe we’re headed back to Balliolshire and we’ve only stopped here to allow them a protracted shore leave before continuing on.  They know of Killian’s innocence and understand that he cannot return with us now.  Many of them will join me in the castle as my personal guard or as part of my war council against the Queen.  All in secret, of course,” Liam grinned but his eyes remained hard.

 

“Which means it’s someone on my crew,” Swan breathed out as she seemed to deflate in front of Killian’s eyes. “Dammit, I’m going to have to leave some of them behind.”

 

“What do you mean?” Red looked at her confused.

 

“We’re sailing tonight,” Swan said apologetically. “It’s not safe for us to linger here any longer than we have to.  I don’t want the Queen to get suspicious and send any of her men here to look for us.”

 

“It would take months for that to happen, longer if they come by land,” Red looked to Granny for support.

 

“Sorry, Red, but I agree with Emma.  Not to mention I won’t be here much longer as it is,” Granny said with a grin.

 

“What?” Red’s confusion seemed to increase.

 

“Can’t exactly help Emma regain her kingdom all the way down here now can I?” Granny smiled widely and in doing so Killian saw a much younger woman shining through. “The dwarves and I will gather others along the way.  By the time you see us again we’ll be knocking on Regina’s door with an army behind us.”

 

“This is too much like Snow and Charming’s fight for the kingdom for my liking,” Red sighed. “But I guess it worked the first time so who am I to judge?  So where exactly are we sailing to?”

 

“I hadn’t exactly figured that part out yet,” Swan said sheepishly.

 

“Arendelle,” Killian had been thinking about it furiously and it was the only choice left to them.

 

“The northern kingdom ruled by the Ice Queen?” Swan asked baffled. “Would she even allow us to sail in her waters let alone seek refuge there?”

 

“Perhaps not but it’s the only place where the Queen’s influence hasn’t reached and never will.  I’ve also recently spent time there and believe that I’m in Queen Elsa’s good graces, at least enough to ask her to harbor us as needed,” Killian looked to Liam and saw he was absently nodding in agreement.

 

“Killian’s right,” Liam said when Killian caught his eye. “Arendelle’s a kingdom unto itself with no allegiances to others.  Even their trade agreements are heavily scrutinized before being enacted.  Queen Elsa’s main hesitance of entering into one with Balliolshire is how closely we’re allied with the Queen.  She may even welcome you warmly, despite the unfortunate nickname that’s plagued her.”

 

Swan flushed but didn’t drop her gaze.  She studied both Liam and himself as though weighing her options, of which there were few.  Everyone else around the table sat in silence, allowing her to come to her come to her own conclusions.  For Killian’s part he had nothing more to offer.  Whatever she chose he had no choice left but to follow and he wasn’t entirely sure it was because he had been ordered to do so.

 

“Fine, we’ll sail for Arendelle,” Swan said finally. “Pinocchio round up the crew, you know who I want, I want to be ready to leave in two hours.  Red you stay here with Granny for now, catch up on what you’ve missed and with each other.  You two, say your goodbyes and then meet me at the docks.”

 

She had stood as she was issuing her orders and ended them by gesturing at Killian and Thompson.  Without waiting for them or the protest that he was going to make she left the room.  Pinocchio followed, leaving without a word spoken.  Red and Granny left as well but chatting amiably, if not a bit melancholic.  Finally it was just Killian, his brother, and the men he considered brothers by choice.

 

“Glad to know we’ll be dealing with that for who knows how long,” Thompson grimaced and then stood, his pack already in hand. “Your Highness it has been an honor sailing with you and I vow to do everything in my power to keep this idiot from getting killed.”

 

Liam laughed as Thompson bent at the waist to bow.  Killian saw Turner scowling over Thompson’s shoulder but softened his gaze when he saw Killian looking at him.

 

“Your Highness it is unfortunate that we must part this way but rest assured His Majesty will come to no harm under my watch.”

 

Turner’s bow was much more formal and Killian could hear Thompson muttering under his breath that Turner had just dressed up what he had said to Liam.  Ignoring him Killian stood as Turner straightened and held out his hand.  After a moment’s hesitation Turner took it with a firm grasp.  Killian wasn’t surprised by his break with formality but he was by the tightening of Turner’s fingers the moment before he broke the handshake.  Without another word he turned and ushered Thompson out of the room, leaving Killian alone with Liam.

 

“This is it little brother, another fond farewell,” Liam grinned, moving to stand in front of him. “Be sure to think things through before you act on them.  Wouldn’t do end up dead because of some half assed plan.”

 

“As long as you let yourself take a risk once in awhile.  We won’t win this thing by playing it safe,” Killian said with a grin of his own. “Now’s not the time to go on as we have before.”

 

“Advice you should take to heart.  Bedding Captain Swan will do us no favors and only serve yourself not the mission we have dedicated ourselves to,” Liam smirked as Killian felt his face heat up. He made to refute the claim but Liam stopped him with a clap of his hand on his shoulder. “I have eyes and ears Killian.  She’s a beautiful woman and from your behavior these past months she’s gotten under your skin.  Don’t allow yourself to scratch that particular itch.”

 

Killian tried to deny it but the words wouldn’t come.  He felt as though the room would burst to flames in his humiliation and he was glad that only Liam was witness to it.  As he felt his furious blush recede he vowed to bury whatever he was feeling for Swan deep in himself.  Liam was right, there was no place for that with what needed to be done.

 

“I should go,” Killian said quietly once he was certain his voice would be steady. “It’s bad form to leave my new captain waiting.”

 

“Aye, wouldn’t want to get on her wrong side so quickly,” Liam smiled wanly.  He cleared his throat gruffly and stood up straight, assuming the bearing of a captain. “Prince Killian of Balliolshire I hereby release you of your duties aboard the Jewel of the Realm.  Go with honor, sailor.”

 

Killian stood at attention and saluted, “It has been an honor and a privilege having you as my captain, my king, and my brother.  May we meet again on calm seas and under a clear sky.”

 

Liam reached out and pulled him into a solid embrace.  Killian felt moisture gathering at his eyes and when he stepped back he found that Liam was in a similar state.  Without any further ado Killian picked up his pack and left the room.  He wouldn’t say goodbye for the same reason Liam hadn’t, the words were too final for the uncertainty of what they faced.

 

As he passed Turner he nodded once but kept walking.  Stepping out into the alley he saw that Thompson was leaning against the wall facing the door.  Killian paused and took a deep breath.  He felt as though he was standing at the edge of a precipice and his next step would lead to greatness or to ruin.  With a shake of his head he forced himself to move on, Thompson falling in step behind him.

 

Without the twists and turns they’d taken when Red had lead them they made their way back to the docks quickly.  The crowds had thinned, leaving only the sailors enjoying their leave and the few townsfolk that earned their keep by doing business under the cover of night.  They came upon Swan almost immediately, she was waiting for them at the end of the main road with her back to the harbor.

 

“Wow, I expected you to take the whole two hours to get here,” she said mildly.

 

“I’ve found that when my captain gives me an order it’s best I follow it,” Killian retorted ignoring Thompson’s amused snort from behind him.

 

“Good,” Swan turned on her heel and began walking away from them, parallel to the water heading north. “Since I have to leave a few people behind I’m expecting the two of you to perform their duties.  Don’t expect me to coddle you just because you’re royalty.”

 

“I assure you, Captain, I’m many things but an incapable sailor I am not.  I graduated from Balliolshire’s Naval Academy with honors and have earned my own rank of Captain.  One that I’ve held for many years now.  As has Thompson,” Killian ground out, insulted that she thought him another spoiled prince.

 

“Then don’t expect me to give up any of my authority to you.  I may have had to lose a few of my crew but there are still plenty who don’t know who the hell you are.  I can’t have you undermining me with your own ideas on how my ship should run,” Swan was walking at an accelerated clip, still along the water’s edge but leaving the harbor behind.

 

“Aye aye, Captain,” Killian turned and rolled his eyes at Thompson but said nothing further.  Swan had a point but he wasn’t about to let her know he agreed.

 

After walking for another ten minutes in silence they finally left the water’s edge.  They followed the path, which was nothing more than a deer trail at that point, around a copse of trees and when they came to the other side the question of where the Brooke had anchored was answered.  It was a small inlet, barely large enough to hold the ship.  Killian figured there was most likely only ten feet of water between the ship’s hull and the sea floor.  A rowboat was on the beach waiting for them to use.

 

Swan looked at them with a proud smile.  She opened her arms and turned part way toward the two mast ship floating serenely in the water.

 

“Jones, Thompson, welcome to the crew of the Tarina Brooke.”


	9. Treacherous Waters

It had been two months since they had set sail from Senlikli and set course for Arendelle.  Killian had been impressed by the way Swan captained her ship.  It was easy to tell that she had learned how to sail from trial and error but she commanded the respect of her crew none the less.  The crimson flag adorned with the all white silhouette of a swan flying high above them left no question as to who was in charge.

 

Swan hadn’t been joking when she had told him and Thompson that they would be given duties alongside the rest of the crew.  As a result their presence on board was accepted without question from any of them.  Even the few Killian had met before treated him as just another sailor joining their ranks.  Red was the only one who treated him as more, but even then with no hint of who he truly was.

 

Thompson wasn’t so lucky.  He had initially been given extra duties in the mess as punishment for his remarks against Swan that Red had heard and his cheek when he’d first seen her back in Senlikli.  While he’d borne it with nothing more than a grimace he had somehow managed to stick his foot right back in his mouth and ended up with a week of watch during the dead of night.  Killian had thought it funny at first but as they continued on and the duties Thompson was assigned showed no sign of improving he feared he’d have to do what he’d promised he wouldn’t.  He wasn’t looking forward to questioning the way Swan was running her ship.

 

As he paced in front of the door leading to the captain’s quarters Killian was thankful that his interactions with Swan had been minimal.  The only time she addressed him directly was either to give him an order or comment on how he was performing a duty, usually given as an insult on his naval training.  She took her meals in her quarters joined by Red or Pinocchio, sometimes both and often times neither.  Her aloofness was also a small blessing in allowing him to control his desire to know more about her and to keep Liam’s warning in mind for his other base desires.

 

“Are you going to be out here all night because I’d rather have you pacing the deck on watch than stepping on every single creaking board out here.”

 

The sound of Swan’s voice startled him and he spun around mid-step to see her leaning against the door frame watching him.  His lack of response wasn’t helped by the state of dress she was in.  Her red embroidered waistcoat was unbuttoned and open over a loose white shirt that she had untucked from her pants and he was further surprised to see that her feet were bare.

 

Swan cleared her throat pointedly, causing Killian’s gaze to snap up to her eyes and finally allowed his tongue to loosen.

 

“Apologies, Swa- er, Captain,” Killian bobbed his head in a gesture of respect. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”

 

“You can have two.  I’m feeling generous,” Swan smiled and stepped back into her quarters. “Come on in, sailor.”

 

Killian entered and immediately wondered if he’d cease to be surprised by Swan.  Unlike Liam’s stark, almost impersonal, quarters Swan appeared to have made hers as comfortable as possible.

 

The walls, cupboards, shelving and even the wood planks above his head were whitewashed but there was a slight hint of blue in the paint.  Her furnishings were carved from a light colored wood the likes of which he had never seen before.  In the open spaces on the walls there were several paintings hanging, he recognized the likeness of her parents in one of them, and he wondered how she was able to keep them from becoming damaged from the exposure to the salt laden sea air.  His eyes finally settled on the bed which was made up with rich yet airy fabrics patterned with flowers and in soft, muted colors.  A fleecy white knitted blanket with rich purple ribbon edging was folded at the foot of the bed and it was easy for Killian to see it was much loved.

 

“Have you gotten your fill yet?” Swan mused from behind him.

 

“I was just wondering how you strike fear in the hearts of men when it’s quite apparent you’ve a soft side, love,” Killian turned to face her, hoping his teasing would distract from the burning blush he felt at the tip of his ears.

 

“I’m not in the habit of inviting men into my quarters,” Swan quirked a brow at him and sat in the chair behind the table.  She folded her legs under her and pointed to the seat opposite her. “Sit down, you’re obviously here to piss me off in some way and I’d rather get mad at you without you towering over me.”

 

“I have no intention of angering you, Swan-”

 

“But it’s going to happen anyway,” she shook her head and her hair that had been plaited into a queue swung freely behind her. “If this is about me ignoring you I thought we agreed I wouldn’t be giving you special treatment.  That means treating you like any other lowly sailor that’s only on this ship as a means to an end.”

 

“Aye, I’m well aware of that but that’s not why I’m here,” Killian sat and fixed her with a hardened stare.  If she wanted to skip the pleasantries he wouldn’t disappoint. “You need to stop punishing Thompson for a slight that happened months ago.  He’s served his penance at least five times over and his patience is wearing thin.”

 

“I’m not punishing him,” Swan huffed out but her eyes slid away from his. “He’s being assigned duties just like everyone else on this ship.”

 

“And yet, the duties he’s being assigned are the worst of the lot with no regard to the state of his emotions or mind.”

 

“So I should just ignore what he said and cut him some slack?  Why, because he’s your friend?  That’s not how this works.”

 

“I’ve heard similar remarks made by others on your crew and often to your face with no repercussions.  Even Red has expressed sympathy for Thompson and she’s threatened him before for his cheek,” Killian could feel his blood pressure rising and he took a deep breath to keep his temper in check.  He was surprised by how quickly it had risen. “It’s bad form for you to keep punishing him while overlooking others for doing the same, not only for a captain but for a future queen.  The day you push your sailors too far is the day that mutiny begins.”

 

“Is that a threat?” Swan asked in a low voice, her feet dropping to the floor as she leaned forward with fire in her eyes.

 

“Of course not,” Killian scoffed, waving his hand as if he could break apart the tension that was filling the room. “But there is a reason you alone have the chance of succeeding where others have not.  The loyalty of your crew is just a small example of how far people are willing to go to stand up to the ones who have done them wrong.  The Queen has reached that tipping point before and your parents succeeded by uniting those who had been victimized by her.  She’s quickly approaching it again and it’s up to you to lead the charge against her.  You won’t succeed if you’re the cause of strife amongst your followers due to unchecked favoritism.”

 

Swan sat back slowly, a muscle in her cheek ticking as she clenched and unclenched her jaw.  She was breathing hard through her nose and the fire he’d seen in her eyes had hardened them to sharp, unfeeling emeralds.  Killian braced himself for the blowback from his words.

 

“Since you’re so adamant that I treat everyone fairly let Thompson know that he’s to report to me first thing in the morning for his new duties,” her voice had become cold and clipped in her anger, the magnitude of which he was realizing he had severely underestimated. “You on the other hand will report for the midnight to four watch tonight and every night for the foreseeable future.  I also expect you to keep up with your assigned duties throughout the day.  Since you’re such a capable sailor I doubt you’ll have any troubles.”

 

He kept his face impassive but his hand had curled into a fist and he could feel his nails biting into his palm.  With great restraint he kept calm and chose his words carefully.

 

“Aye, aye, Captain.  I’ll do my duty as ordered but consider this: I know what’s expected of me and strive to be that for my kingdom and my people.  While you may have been in hiding these past ten years someday you will be queen.  You should think long and hard about the type of ruler you will be.”

 

Without waiting for her to grant him leave he stood and strode across her quarters.  Remembering to keep any outward display of his anger hidden he carefully opened the door and closed it politely behind him.  It was only when he had made his way to the crew quarters did he let his emotions bleed out.

 

Wrenching open the door to his cabin he was dismayed to see Thompson already there.  He was laying in his bunk reading but slowly lowered the book as he caught sight of the fury Killian knew was marring his features.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked warily as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and bending slightly to keep from knocking his head on Killian’s bunk.

 

“Nothing,” Killian seethed. “You’re to report to Swan first thing tomorrow for your new duties.”

 

“Oh, really?” Thompson looked at him carefully.  His brow furrowed slightly before he groaned and covered his face with his hands. “You bloody idiot.  What the hell did you do?”

 

“She wasn’t being fair to you.  I thought I might be able to reason with her,” he said through gritted teeth as he paced the small length of the cabin.

 

“Unbelievable,” Thompson dropped his hands to glare at him. “Even I know better than to try and reason with someone as stubborn as she is, let alone a pirate captain and princess to boot.  You know, I didn’t ask for your help.”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Killian sighed and stopped to face him. “You haven’t even complained once, which is a first, but I know how miserable you’ve been.  I couldn’t stand by and let her treat you far worse than you deserve.”

 

“I deserve plenty, I’ll have you know,” Thompson grinned but it was a half hearted thing.

 

“Aye, doesn’t make it right though.”

 

“No, it doesn’t,” Thompson agreed quietly. He attempted another grin as he tilted his head slightly. “So what has Captain Swan done that’s got you all in a strop?”

 

“I’ve been put on the middle watch for as long as she’s right pissed with me,” Killian groaned, dropping onto a trunk placed at the foot of their bunks.

 

“Honestly, it’s a wonder you’ve managed to stay on her good side for this long and now I owe Turner five pieces of silver, you ass.”

 

“You bet on how long it would take before I angered Swan?”

 

The last of Killian’s anger drained away at the betrayal he felt.  He would have put some silver down on it as well if he had known.

 

“I thought you’d only last two weeks but it all works out since Liam owes me twenty,” Thompson said with a smug smile.

 

“Liam bet against me!”

 

“Not quite, we had a separate bet going.  He thought you’d do something a bit lascivious while I knew you’d just be your damn noble self and invoke her wrath over some small injustice.  Turns out being constantly at your side all these years has finally paid off.  It’s not often that the King owes one of his subjects and I plan to never let him forget about it,” Thompson’s smile widened and Killian realized it was the first time he’d done so since they’d boarded the Brooke.

 

“Unbelievable, my own brother,” Killian said with a rueful shake of his head. “At least he won’t have to drain the coffers to pay up.  He makes that much on a single hand of cards.”

 

“I know, usually from me,” Thompson scoffed.  He settled back on his bunk, picking up his book. “You should try and get some sleep, the middle watch is murder if you try to stay awake the whole night.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Killian dropped his head back to stare at the wood above his head. “I’m also expected to keep up with my assigned duties.”

 

“But you’re on morning mess and then maintenance duties through the afternoon.  Is she trying to kill you?” Thompson sounded indignant but Killian kept his gaze trained upward.

 

“Not right away but I believe that’s her intended goal.  Easier for her to maintain her innocence that way than if she finally used her sword as more than just an adornment.”

 

Thompson snorted in amusement as Killian dropped his head and began removing his boots.

 

“Did you happen to mention that we’ve crossed into Balliolshire’s waters?” Thompson asked conversationally.

 

“I didn’t get the chance.  We should be fine, he’s in the habit of sailing south for the winter months,” Killian said as he lined his boots up against his trunk.

 

“It’s been a mild winter though, but I’ve been wrong before.  You should still warn her though.  It’s good form and all that nonsense.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.  Get back to your book.”

 

“Yes sir,” Thompson gave him a lazy salute, watching him with troubled eyes.

 

Climbing into his bunk he resolved to at least try to sleep.  He knew he was too alert to truly rest, the heightened emotions of his confrontation with Swan and the sudden change to his schedule to blame.  If anything he hoped to be able to doze lightly if he was to survive the next twenty four hours.

 

When the seven bells rang a half hour before he was due on deck Killian gave up on his attempts at sleep.  He’d spent most of the night wondering what he could have done different with how he had approached Swan.  As a result he had tossed and turned in his bunk as his emotions swung from indignation to chagrin and back again.  Thompson had tried to talk to him about it some more but Killian had brushed him off and suffered in silence and stillness as he had resolutely lain curled on his side facing the wall.

 

He dropped silently from his bunk and grabbed his boots and an overcoat before stepping out of the cabin.  Thompson’s snores cut off as he shut the door behind him.  Leaning against it to slip on his boots he wondered if there was a possibility of procuring a strong cup of tea from the galley.  The cook was an unfortunately fastidious fellow and Killian knew his chances were slim to none.  Even if the man was awake at that hour he’d sooner pour the hot water down Killian’s trousers than into a mug for his tea.

 

Pushing himself off the door he made his way topside.  Despite the fact that the vernal equinox was weeks behind them there was still a distinct chill in the air.  He shrugged on his coat as he crossed the deck and headed towards the bow.

 

The route Swan had decided to take to Arendelle was one that Killian had never sailed before.  It wasn’t unknown to him as it had been charted for Balliolshire patrols and Pinocchio had cornered him a few days previous to show exactly what points to avoid.  What he had failed to mention and what seemed to trouble Thompson was that he hadn’t informed Swan that they were sailing straight through the territory of a pirate far more fearsome than herself.  Killian didn’t know why he’d kept the information to himself but as they sped forward he hoped they’d have luck on their side and avoid running into any trouble completely.

 

“Can’t sleep Jones?”

 

Killian smiled as he turned.  Red wasn’t lying when she said she had the late night watch aboard the Brooke.  Thompson had mentioned seeing her during the time he’d been on night watch himself and had grudgingly admitted she was decent company once they got used to each other.

 

“In a fashion,” Killian shook his head. “I’ve also been assigned the middle watch for a spell and with such short notice my sleep habits are bound to be a bit muddled for a while.”

 

“What?  Why would Emma alter your watch duty so suddenly?” Red asked looking him over as if his appearance would give her an answer.

 

“I may have overstepped my bounds and gotten on her wrong side,” he sighed.

 

“So she’s punishing you,” she said with a tone of disappointment. “Go back to your cabin, Jones, I’ll settle this with Emma in the morning.”

 

“All due respect, Red, I’ve been given orders by my captain.  I’m not going to disobey them because I think her unfair.  That makes me a poor sailor and a petulant child if I think ranting will get me my way.  I only told you because you asked,” Killian said, not unkindly.

 

He didn’t know if it was because of her time on the Jewel or just her caring nature but Red had become the closest thing to a friend he had on the Brooke.  She had been the one to explain the workings of the Brooke and her crew to Thompson and himself.  As first mate it wasn’t part of her duties to do so but Pinocchio had refused to do his part as first lieutenant.  Killian realized he should have known then that things wouldn’t go smoothly for him or Thompson.

 

“Did she at least reassign you your duties so they align with this new schedule?”

 

“No, I am expected to perform them with the thoroughness of someone with my level of sailing expertise,” Killian shook his head slowly. “Unfortunately we weren’t exactly prepared for the trials and tribulations of sailing on a pirate ship back at the Academy.”

 

“This isn’t how we run this ship,” Red said furiously. “Sometimes I wonder what influences her more, the training she’d had for most of her life to rule a kingdom or the harsh lessons of the reality of a life where she had to be nobody and still rise above it.”

 

“Red,” Killian said feeling almost uncomfortable. “Swan is a fine captain, far better than some I’ve seen graduate from the Academy.  It’s merely an overstepping of bounds on my part and once her anger with me has subsided I shall apologize and we’ll move past it.”

 

“Are you sure?” She asked seemingly unconvinced.

 

“Aye,” he said as the ship’s bell rang the eight times signalling the start of his watch. “If you’ll excuse me.”

 

Red waved him away.  He could see that she was still upset but there was nothing he could do about it.  Not only did he have a job to perform, even with the lateness of the hour, but he didn’t know much else he could say that wouldn’t end up with him in the brig for insubordination.  He wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to stay out of it before they made it to Arendelle.

 

The night passed by without any further incident.  Killian was able to stay alert through his watch but the lack of sleep and torrent of emotions caught up with him as the sun rose and he had to report to the galley.  By the time he returned to the deck a few hours later he was lost in a haze of exhaustion and had to be told three times that he needed to mend a few torn sails.  Grumpy finally gave up and shoved the needle, thread, and yards of sail cloth into his hands and wished him luck.

 

He was desperately trying to thread the needle when a pair of boots stepped into his line of sight.  Choosing to ignore them he focused harder on his task but he couldn’t get his hands to stay steady and with his vision blurring it made the small feat nearly impossible.

 

“Jones.”

 

“In a minute, love, I’ve nearly got it,” Killian brought his hands closer to his face, hoping it would help.

 

“Jones, put it down,” Swan said, seemingly annoyed.

 

“Is that an order Swan because I’m quite sure I’ve had my fill of those from you,” his attempts to keep his hands steady only increased their shaking and he bit his tongue against the curses he wanted to mutter.

 

Killian heard the sounds of muffled laughter around him and a distinct huff of exasperation.  Finally looking up he saw Swan standing over him, hand on her hips, with the look of annoyance he had been expecting and a handful of the crew watching the both of them.  He slowly dropped his hands to his lap and blinked furiously against the burning that had started to plague his eyes.

 

“When was the last time you slept?” Swan sounded concerned but he attributed it to a trick of his sluggish mind.

 

“The night before last if I’m not mistaken.  I would have been better rested if I had been given the time to prepare myself for the change in my schedule.  Alas, I was not and now find myself bested by the simple trick of threading a needle,” Killian threw up his hands in defeat and stared up at Swan with chagrin.

 

“It’s like you’re drunk,” Swan said with wonder.

 

“And you’d know better than most, darling.  Didn’t think I’d forgotten about that night in the tavern, now did you?”

 

There was more laughter but Killian kept his eyes on Swan.  His exhaustion was pulling heavily on him but he was alert enough to know that she’d come to apologize.  He was also awake enough to want a little revenge for her putting him in the state he was in.  She was frowning down at him but he could see the blush working its way across her cheeks.

 

“Ah, I thought not,” Killian said nodding sagely, as he let a slow grin unfurl. “Not to worry, Swan, I’m not content to just make Fate laugh anymore.  I fully intend to make her squirm.”

 

Swan’s eyes widened in disbelief, her cheeks bright red but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was still a mere blush.  She was livid and he was highly amused.  At least with his remarks he had done something to earn the punishment she had bestowed upon him.

 

“Jones, you are dismissed until further notice,” she grit out, hands shaking at her sides. “Go back to your cabin and sleep it off, I’ll not have you endangering this ship with your careless mistakes.”

 

“And yet I wouldn’t be in the position to make such mistakes if my captain had the foresight to prevent it.  Although, I wouldn’t be adverse to her lack of foresight if it lands me in a much more desirable position in the future.”

 

Killian knew he was pushing his luck but he felt as if he was entering a state of delirium, the consequences for his actions be damned.  He waited for the moment Swan would order him to forget returning to his cabin and head straight for the brig.  Thompson had positioned himself over Swan’s shoulder and was frantically motioning for him to keep his mouth shut.  It was unnecessary, he had gotten in all the coherent shots he was capable of.

 

Swan, for her part, was staring at him as if he’d grown a second head.  She was still angry but Killian could see the reluctant amusement in her twitching lips and dancing eyes.  It seemed to him that he had found, quite by accident, the key to unlocking the tough exterior she had layered herself in.  Liam would kill him if he found out he planned to obstinately flirt his way into Swan’s good graces.

 

“Thompson, stop trying to save his ass and escort Jones back to your cabin,” Swan barked without turning to look at Thompson. “After you’ve deposited him there report to my quarters.”

 

Narrowing her eyes at Killian a final time she turned on her heel and made her way through the small crowd that had gathered.  Once she was out of sight he slumped over, much like a marionette whose strings had been cut, giving into his exhaustion fully.  The crew chuckled as they dispersed, knowing the show was over.  Thompson stepped forward and Killian knew he was scowling without looking up.

 

“You bloody idiot,” Thompson muttered. “I don’t know what you thought that would achieve but congratulations, you’ve earned yourself another black mark with her.”

 

“I think not, Tommy,” Killian sighed as he tipped his head back, squinting as he looked up at him. “I do believe she’s like every other lass, susceptible to my charms.”

 

“I hope for your sake that once you’ve slept you’ll see what a colossal ass you’ve made of yourself,” Thompson said with a shake of his head. “Come on, Sir Charming, to your bunk and hopefully back to sanity with you.”

 

Killian grunted as he stood, leaving the sail laying on the deck behind him.  Grumpy would get someone else to mend the damn thing.

 

He made it to his cabin without further incident.  Thompson kept up a litany of cursing and scolding that had Killian calling him Turner just to shut him up.  It worked and Thompson left him with nothing more than a grimace and a shake of his head.  Climbing into his bunk he barely remembered to remove his boots before he passed out without further thought.

 

When he awoke he was momentarily disoriented.  It took him a moment to remember that he wasn’t in his cabin on the Jewel and another to remember the spectacle he’d made of himself.  Looking out the small window he realized the quality of light was far different from what he’d fallen asleep to.  He couldn’t be sure without going up to the deck but it was a safe bet that he’d slept far longer and far more deeply than he’d anticipated.

 

The sound of two bells ringing confirmed his suspicions that he had slept away the afternoon, night and it was currently midmorning.  He sat up slowly, mindful of the stiffness in his muscles and joints.  From the ache in his left shoulder and the somewhat unrumpled state of his bunk he guessed he hadn’t moved much through his slumber.  Just as he was beginning to wonder if people who were awoken from a sleeping curse felt the same kind of awe he did at the passage of time but exponentially so Thompson entered the cabin.

 

“About time you woke up you lazy sod,” he said with a grin. “You need to report to Captain Swan.”

 

“What? No good morning?” His voice was gravelly and he cleared it with a rough cough. “I’m surprised she didn’t send someone to unceremoniously wake me earlier.  What the hell did you say to her to prevent that?”

 

“Oh you remember that I was ordered to her quarters do you?  Do you also remember that you made a right ass of yourself in front of the crew?” Thompson leaned on the door jamb, but lowered his voice. “Half of them think you’ve slept with Swan and the other half thinks you still are.”

 

“It’s as good a cover as any,” Killian hedged, groaning as he stretched his arms as much as he could from his bunk. “Anyone that had suspicions before now think they know exactly why we’re here.  Well, why I’m here at least.”

 

“What was wrong with them thinking we were just on this ship as a means of travel?  Much simpler and there was less of a chance of Swan forcing us to walk the plank when you push her too far.”

 

Killian shrugged and dropped down from his bunk, stumbling slightly as he landed.  He scowled as he bent his knees a few times to get the blood flowing back through his legs.

 

Thompson wanted a reason for why he had said what he did.  Unfortunately he couldn’t tell him that he just wanted to get a rise out of Swan.

 

“Well, now I have a plausible reason for seeking a private audience with her.  We’re quickly approaching Arendelle and from her remarks back in Agrabah Swan has never been, nor has she met Queen Elsa.  She needs to be prepared for an audience with her and the customs of the kingdom.  There is also the threat that sailing in these waters poses.  Swan may not like it but it’s better for the crew to believe we started our dalliance before we set sail instead of creating rumors that would undermine both her authority and create suspicion for how I might influence her decisions.”

 

“Instead we’ll just lead them to believe you’ve been currying her favor since the beginning by sleeping with her this whole time?  Yes, that’s so much better,” Thompson scoffed. “Remind me to gag you the next time you seem even remotely out of your senses.”

 

“Fine,” Killian huffed. “If I admit that I may be trying to cover for my idiocy will you be willing to pretend that this was our plan all along?”

 

“Ah, the truth at last!” Thompson crowed triumphantly. “I expect a handsome reward for my going along with this.  Perhaps a title or even better, a ship of my own.  I’ve taken quite a fancy to the Garnet.”

 

“It hasn’t even been fully built yet,” Killian said narrowing his eyes at him. “In fact, we commissioned its construction only weeks before we left Balliolshire.”

 

“True, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t catch of glimpse of the plans on your desk at one point or another.  Seems she’ll be only second to the Jewel, a worthy vessel if I’m not mistaken,” Thompson said casually, scuffing the toe of his boot on the floorboards.

 

“If we make it through this alive and with the Queen defeated I’ll give you the Garnet, a title, and an estate to retire at,” Killian promised. “But first I have a Captain to report to and hope that I haven’t destroyed any chance of her taking my advice seriously.”

 

“That I cannot answer for you but I will say she seemed far more amused than she should have when we spoke yesterday,” Thompson supplied as he pushed himself off the jamb to stand. “Good luck.”

 

Killian scrubbed his hand over his face as Thompson left.  He wanted to crawl back in his bunk rather than face the repercussions of his loose lips.  With a deep breath he bolstered himself and proceeded to ready for what was to come.

 

Ten minutes later he found himself once again facing the door of Swan’s quarters.  He couldn’t linger outside as he had before, there were too many crew members about that could walk through the passageway at any moment.  It wouldn’t do to encourage the talk amongst the crew when he hadn’t fully explained himself to Swan.

 

He knocked with a confidence he didn’t quite feel and waited.  It wasn’t long before the door opened.  Swan looked out at him impassively before stepping aside allowing him to enter.  Getting a read on her mood was nearly impossible in the few seconds he’d had to study her face.  His only hope lay in her being open to hearing what he had to say despite the liberties he had taken with her willingness to go along with their plans thus far.

 

Swan walked around him and sat down at her desk as she had before.  He waited for her to speak but she merely nodded her head at the chair across from her and he sat without comment.  The silence grew between them, causing Killian to wonder if she was the one waiting for him to speak first.  Before the quiet could become unsettling he opened his mouth to apologize but she abruptly spoke over him.

 

“I was wondering if the rumors were true,” she said idly, her gaze fixed on him.

 

“Rumors?”

 

“Your reputation precedes you, sailor,” Swan said as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I was wondering what happened to the lothario prince that sweeps into ports and ends up leaving a bunch of heartbroken girls in his wake.  Imagine my surprise when I find out you’re actually a gentleman of sorts and surprisingly quiet, especially when your brother is in the room.”

 

“I’m always a gentleman,” he ground out, bristling. “You of all people should know that lies about your character never truly reflect the real person.”

 

“So, what?  You’re as virtuous as a priest?  I find that hard to believe, especially after yesterday’s performance,” Swan tilted her head to look at him pointedly.

 

“I never said that.  I may have done things that have enforced what people believed of me but it does not define who I am.”

 

Killian stood to leave.  His apology and the discussion of how they needed to proceed would have to wait until his temper was under better control.  He hadn’t expected Swan to strike at him so pointedly when he had allowed himself to be vulnerable to show his sincerity in rectifying his mistakes.  Her criticism and judgement on who he was reputed to be stung in a way he had never experienced before.  He felt ashamed, irate, and disheartened all at once and it was as if he was drowning.

 

“Sit down,” Swan said amused.

 

“I’ll not remain here if you plan on continuing to attack me so,” Killian said in a tight voice. “While I know my behavior yesterday was uncalled for and improper I refrained from truly sullying your own reputation.  Whatever that might be.”

 

“I’m a pirate, you might be surprised to find that my reputation is already ‘sullied’ and my crew knows me well enough to disregard the comments of a sleep deprived sailor,” she was grinning but her voice was stern. “Sit down.  That’s an order.”

 

He did so reluctantly, a frown turning down his lips as he eyed her suspiciously.  Swan appeared to be having fun at his expense but he wasn’t entirely sure he could take much more of her teasing.

 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing at Swan but there are important matters we need to discuss.  I’m truly sorry for the insinuations I made and for questioning your abilities as a captain.  I will continue to stand at middle watch as long as you deem necessary to atone for my behavior.  However, I stand by my statements on Thompson’s behalf.  He deserves better treatment than you and some of your crew have been affording him.”

 

Killian stared at her defiantly.  Swan was looking back but he could see that she was still in a somewhat mirthful mood.  He was puzzled by how she could find humor in a situation that only two days previous she would have found insulting.

 

“You need new clothes,” she finally said, tilting her head slightly.

 

“I beg your pardon?” He asked bewildered as he looked down at himself.

 

“We’ve been at sea for couple of months and I think I’ve only seen you in two different shirts.  Not to mention that ratty waistcoat.  I thought as a prince you’d have your fair share of clothes to pick from,” she said in a teasing tone.

 

“Aye,” he said slowly, decidedly puzzled at the turn their conversation had taken. “Unfortunately this little excursion of ours was unplanned and I don’t think it would have been wise to bring along my uniform.  It might have been a bit suspicious.”

 

“Just a bit,” she said smiling. “Follow me.”

 

With that she stood and left her quarters.  He remained seated, all the more confused, until her voice sounded from the passageway telling him to get a move on.

 

Swan walked ahead of him, greeting the crew members they passed but saying nothing to him.  They moved deeper into the bowels of the ship where only the groaning of the hull and the sound of the ship’s passage through the water could be heard.  Finally she gestured for him to precede her into the hold where he could barely make out the stores of food and other various items stacked amongst each other.

 

“Those trunks along the port side are filled with things we’ve liberated from other ships,” Swan said pointing out the trunks she meant.

 

“Don’t you mean stole?” Killian asked with a raised brow.

 

“I said what I meant,” she quipped back. “Keep in mind that we’re pirates and if you plan on blending in with this crew you’ll need to dress accordingly.  Not that there’s much of a choice.”

 

“Why are we down here?  Is this some kind of trick?”

 

He didn’t hide the suspicion in his voice.  She was smiling at him.  It wasn’t full of malice or teasing but open and full of mirth.

 

“Pick out some clothes, change and I’ll explain why I haven’t thrown you or your manservant overboard.”

 

“He’s not my manservant,” he corrected, still wary of her motivations.

 

“Bodyguard? Squire? Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. She waved at the trunks, “I promise not to look.”

 

“Afraid you’ll like what you’ll see?” He quipped back automatically.  Snapping his mouth shut he closed his eyes briefly.

 

“Please, I’ve seen plenty of bare chests on a hot summer’s day aboard this ship.  I highly doubt you have anything more to offer than what I’ve already seen.”

 

She was smirking at him when his eyes opened in astonishment.  He hadn’t expected her to tease him back.  That more than her words assured him that she wasn’t toying with him and that he hadn’t been wrong in his exhaustion.  Swan enjoyed bantering with him.

 

“Still, I do believe the temptation may lie in the simple fact that I’m not someone you’ve been ordering about for years, either as a captain or a princess, love,” he teased, winking salaciously.

 

“Do you want to spend the rest of the voyage in the brig?  Clothes, now, and keep your mouth shut while I talk,” she said with a fake scowl, her eyes still dancing with playfulness.

 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he bowed mockingly and sauntered over to the trunks, surprised to see how many there actually were.

 

“Thompson’s already been through them so don’t be mad at what’s left,” Swan said somewhat loudly.  He looked back and saw she was still by the ladder but was facing the starboard side. “Also half those trunks are filled with dresses that Red’s collected over the years with the belief that we’ll someday get to wear them as more than just a disguise.”

 

“If we succeed you may get your chance,” Killian said letting his voice carry across the hold.

 

When Swan didn’t answer him right away he turned back to the trunks to see what he had to work with.  He quickly found she was right about the dresses as he opened one trunk after the other only to be greeted with bright colors and yards of delicate fabric.  When he did find trunks that looked promising he was dismayed to see that nearly all of the clothing was made of leather or elaborately embroidered and every last stitch of it was black.  Grumbling he sorted through it all to find things that might fit him, piling items at his side and cursing that Thompson most likely had better choices than he did.

 

“I didn’t realize that you and Red had become so close,” Swan finally said.  Her voice was casual but he could hear the underlying question in it.

 

“Red was a guest on the Jewel before we became lowly crew members here on the Brooke,” he reminded her as he undid his waistcoat and pulled off his shirt. “She was nice enough to treat Thompson and I as people worth respect and not only because of who we really are.”

 

“Yeah, she said as much,” she sighed, he could hear her shifting behind him as he buttoned the black shirt he had chosen. “Thompson did too when I talked to him.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He kept his tone even as he quickly glanced over his shoulder to check that she was still facing away from him.  Satisfied that she was he quickly exchanged his loose fitting trousers for a pair of tight leather ones, also in black.  As he tucked in the shirt he was glad that whomever Swan had raided was about his size, even if their taste was decidedly not on par with his.

 

“It’s funny, they were both willing to take on part of your duties and point out how unfair I was treating you.  Thompson didn’t mention once that I had done the same to him,” she mused. “I had to bring it up myself, actually.”

 

“I hope he didn’t offend you further,” he said with a wince as he tried to attach and adjust a pair of suspenders.

 

“No,” she said with a laugh. “I think I offended him when I called you an asshole.”

 

“Ah,” he sighed as he finally got the fit right and picked up a waistcoat that had only minimal embroidery adorning it. “He’s a bit territorial when it comes to insulting me.”

 

“I figured as much,” she sighed. “But they were right and so were you.  I’ve been treating you like shit since you stepped foot on board.  Thompson may have earned a little punishment but not what I’ve doled out.  We’re supposed to be working together and all I’ve done is keep you down.”

 

“It’s somewhat understandable, love.  We’ve both found ourselves a bit over our head with where we’ve found ourselves since the Queen has forced our hands.  You have to know that I was never a threat to you as a captain.  I’m only here because there is nowhere else I could go that would allow me to assist my brother.  Helping you regain your kingdom will help us free ours.”

 

As he spoke he had crossed the hold, fully dressed in his new outfit.  It was so unlike what he normally wore that if he had a looking glass to see himself in he didn’t know if he would recognize himself.  Gently he tapped Swan on her shoulder, stepping back slightly to allow her to see him fully.

 

“I know and I’m sorry that--”

 

Her words drifted away as she turned to look at him.  Fighting the urge to squirm under her gaze and fighting harder not to smirk at how long she stared he stood still.  Finally her eyes landed on his face and broke into a smirk of her own.

 

“Now that’s much better,” she said as she let her gaze travel the length of his body again.

 

“As much as you’re enjoying the view, Swan, is there any chance you’ve hidden away anything more comfortable than these leather trousers?” He grumbled, winking when she looked up at him once more.

 

“Well, your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear,” she said with a grin.  He couldn’t be sure in the low lamplight but he thought he detected a slight flush in her cheeks. “Look, I’m not going to promise we’ll get along but I’m willing to open up to some suggestions.  I haven’t exactly kept up with court etiquette and something tells me I’m going to need it in Arendelle.”

 

“Too right, Princess,” he said solemnly but with a smile. She returned it with a roll of her eyes, “First there’s something I should have warned you about the moment you chose to sail this route.”

 

“What?” She asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Is it mermaids?  A giant whirlpool?  A storm that never ends?”

 

“If you’d allow me to tell you,” he broke in. “It’s none of those but no less dangerous for it.”

 

“And you’re just telling me now?” She threw up her hands in frustration.

 

“It’s not as though you were open to discussion before this, Swan,” he fired back.

 

“Then spit it out and I’ll be the judge of how to dangerous it might be.”

 

Killian drew in a breath to snap back at her when he heard a distant boom.  His eyes widened and he glanced at Swan.  A moment later the ship rocked to one side as though she had been hit by a wayward wave.  He knew exactly what it was and before Swan had a chance to question him he was climbing the ladder and making his way as fast as he could up to the deck.

 

When he emerged into the bright sunshine he had to pause a moment to let his eyes adjust.  The moment they did he was able to see the frantic movements of the crew as they rushed to follow Red’s orders.  Swan came up beside him but he didn’t wait to hear her questions.  Instead he pushed his way past everyone to the stern.

 

They were being pursued and Killian didn’t need his spyglass to recognize the ship’s silhouette or know that she was flying a pirate’s flag.  He had only seen drawings and read descriptions but there was no mistaking the sight of Queen Anne’s Revenge.  Swan reached his side once more and he felt awash with guilt that he hadn’t warned her sooner.

 

“They’re too close.  They’ve probably marked our position and we can’t outrun them,” she groaned. “Who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to be a pirate in waters controlled by the strongest navy in the realms?”

 

“A pirate that believes himself invincible and has yet to be proven wrong,” Killian bit out.

 

“You know who it is?” Swan turned to him in shock.

 

“Aye,” Killian looked at her, unable to mask his fury at what was happening. “He’s a treacherous bastard that I should have warned you about so you could have kept a watch for him.”

 

“Name, Jones, I need a name!” She practically yelled at him as the distant boom of a cannon sounded again.

 

“His given name is Edward Teach,” he said as the shot landed in the water off the port side. “You, however, might know him better by his more colorful moniker: Blackbeard.”

 

Killian looked back at the Revenge and saw that it was gaining quickly.  They had no choice but to stand their ground and fight.  He only hoped that there was enough pirate in Swan and her crew to give them a chance at surviving what was to come.


	10. Without A Choice

“Blackbeard?  Is that what you neglected to warn me about?”

 

Swan was incredulous glaring between him and the ship that was on their tail.

 

“In my defense you weren’t exactly receptive to anything I had to say,” Killian shot back as he turned and ran across the deck.  He saw Thompson helping load cannons with grapeshot as he made his way to the ladder leading down into the bowels ship.  Without pausing he called out, “Tommy, we’re about to host a very unsavory guest.  Try and convince Swan not to do anything rash until I get back and whatever you do don’t let any of those cannons fire!”

 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Thompson yelled after him.

 

“A pirate is only as good as his weapon!”

 

He slid down the ladder and made his way down the passageway, blinking madly as his eyes adjusted to the dimness below deck.  The cabin he shared with Thompson wasn’t far from where he had dropped down but with the evasive actions of whoever was at the helm was taking he found himself bumping into the walls and nearly toppling through open doorways.

 

Finally he stumbled into his cabin and flung open the trunk at the foot of the bunks.  There wasn’t much in it aside from the few belongings he had brought over from the Jewel.  Swan had been right about his clothing, just a few shirts and a spare pair of trousers.  Killian flung those out along with a his empty pack to grab what was underneath.

 

He pulled out his sword, a thing of beauty crafted for him by their kingdom’s best blacksmith for his eighteenth birthday and gifted to him by his parents.  The guard was a single brass bar looped and whirled on itself so it protected his hand thoroughly while still garnering attention for its craftsmanship.  Yet, it was the blade that made his sword truly unique.  Made from Woot steel it had the appearance of rippling water but was unparalleled in its sharpness and durability.  It was his prized possession.

 

Strapping the sword belt to his waist, the scabbard and sword resting at his hip, he was relieved that he had yet to hear another cannon go off.  It was short lived as he realized that the Brooke was slowing down.  Killian cursed as he hurled himself out of the cabin to make it topside before the Revenge was within hailing distance.

 

As he emerged on deck he found Thompson squaring off with Swan, Red, and Pinocchio.  The rest of the crew was either nervously watching the argument or more nervously watching the rapid approach of the Revenge as they worked.  They had lowered the sails and the Brooke was markedly slowing even as Killian watched.

 

“What do you mean we can’t fire the cannons?” Pinocchio yelled as he gestured towards the Revenge. “They had no problem firing at us!”

 

“Warning shots only, surely you’re aware how effective those are?” Thompson said exasperated as if he’d repeated the phrase multiple times already. “I mean you are pirates right?  I haven’t been sailing on a pleasure cruise for privileged aristocrats have I?  My mistake, perhaps we should just bend over and let Blackbeard fu-”

 

“Enough!” Killian roared. “We don’t have time to rip at each other’s throats when we’re about to be boarded by a crew far more bloodthirsty than ours.”

 

“Then why aren’t we taking shots at them while we can?” Pinocchio growled turning on him.

 

“Because the Revenge has far more firepower than us and she’s in the position to take advantage of that.  Our best bet is to allow them to board and hope they want nothing more than to raid our hold.  They’ve undoubtedly seen the colors we’re flying and the Brooke’s reputation may be enough to keep Blackbeard satisfied at merely humiliating us,” Killian spoke quickly guessing they only had minutes before the Revenge would be alongside them.

 

“And if he decides otherwise?” Red asked, forehead tight with worry.

 

“Then we fight,” Killian answered grimly.

 

He looked across from him and saw Swan watching him with a look of displeasure.  In the urgency of the moment he had forgotten his place.  The Brooke was not his ship, he was not her captain, and any decisions about her fate had to be made by Swan.

 

“I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.  Whatever course of action you choose I’ll support,” he dropped his head in a nod, deferring to Swan.

 

Swan didn’t say anything at first.  She continued to look at him and he kept his face open and encouraging.  He wanted to ask her if this was the first time she was at the mercy of a pirate who had spotted a prize, if she’d ever had to fight for her life before,  if she was scared, but he held his tongue.  It wasn’t the time for such questions.

 

“Emma?” Pinocchio questioned hesitantly, his hand reaching out to touch her elbow. “You need to make a decision.”

 

Killian watched as she seemed to come back to herself.  Her eyes focused and clarified and her lips turned down in fierce determination.  She turned to look back at the Revenge.

 

“We’ll follow the steps that Jones has suggested we take.  We’re outgunned but I doubt we’re outmanned,” she broke away from them and strode up to the helm.  The crew followed her progress and watched her with bated breath. “Looks like we’re finally experiencing what countless other vessels have felt when they spy us on the horizon.  While our position may be reversed we’ll keep with the same tactics we’ve used before.  No one addresses me as Captain, no one looks at me when they ask to speak to the captain, when they decide for themselves who the captain is you will defer to any order they give even if they happen to choose Grumpy this time.”

 

There was a smattering of laughter, tense and without humor but it served its purpose.  The crew was no longer nervous but alert, ready to spring into action.  Killian marveled at the command Swan had while she was, in a way, giving it up.

 

“Not one of us will make the first move.  Blackbeard is rumored to be a bastard but so full of hot air and pompous pride that we might just be able to get out of this okay,” Swan looked over her shoulder as the Revenge was slowly approaching the starboard side. “Prepare to be boarded.”

 

Swan left the helm as the crew scurried about grabbing weapons and positioning themselves across the deck.  Red and Pinocchio broke off to do the same each heading towards opposite sides of the ship.  Thompson looked at him grimly and then down at his side.

 

“Didn’t think to grab mine while you were down there?” He asked casually looking back up to watch the Revenge and her crew come into view in front of them.

 

“I wasn’t sure where you had stowed it this time,” Killian shrugged as he placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Now we know why no one had ever seen the Brooke’s captain.”

 

“Quite a good tactic if you ask me,” Thompson said as he bent over and slid a dagger from his boot. “They must have built up a lot of trust with each other for it to work.”

 

“We have,” Swan said as she approached them keeping her eyes on the Revenge. “I hope you two don’t fuck things up.”

 

The sound of hooks digging into the rails of the Brooke prevented Killian from answering.  Someone was calling at them to surrender and a voice to his left responded in the negative.  A threat was issued and another voice, this time from the stern, reiterated the refusal to surrender.  Finally when it appeared that the Revenge’s crew was satisfied by the tethering of the ships together a long plank of wood was set up and they made their way across.

 

Swan stepped away from him and Thompson as her crew shifted unwillingly to allow the intruders on board.  Moments later the man himself made his way across.

 

Blackbeard was dressed in an ostentatious coat of red with leather cuffs and lapels, frilled black shirtsleeves embroidered with gold thread draped over his hands, and a wide leather belt adorned with three knives was worn much like a sash across his body.  His long, dark black hair hung down from under his tricorne and his eyes were a piercing crystalline blue made all the more striking by the kohl lining his eyes.

 

Immediately Killian could see what all the reports and tales had meant when describing Blackbeard as a peacock on the sea but with a streak of cruelty befitting any pirate.  The man was smiling but his eyes were darting from one end of the Brooke to the other in cold calculation, taking in everything.  It was clear he was looking for the captain to address his demands.

 

“I never thought I’d see the day that the Tarina Brooke would sail these waters,” Blackbeard said as he looked at his crew surrounding him. “Then again with Captain Swan at her helm I can’t say I’m surprised.”

 

Blackbeard and his crew broke out into raucous laughter.  Killian felt his jaw clenching but did as Swan had ordered and kept his gaze steadily on the pirate captain.  As the laughter died down a scowl flit across Blackbeard’s face when he realized no one had risen to his bait.

 

“What’s this?  Is Captain Swan too much of a coward to step forward?  Pity, I was rather looking forward to humiliating him when I took this ship for all she’s worth before sending her to the depths below,” he scanned the deck again and seemed almost disappointed when no one moved. “Nothing?  If I had known the Brooke was under such poor leadership I would have sought her out to take her sooner.  Perhaps I’ll start a pirate fleet, since apparently the Brooke just needs the right touch to make her fall in line.”

 

He licked his lips lewdly and laughed again.  Killian felt a rush of anger and opened his mouth to retort but Thompson’s hand on his arm prevented it.

 

“Kil, don’t,” Thompson hissed at him.

 

“Aha!  Captain Swan I presume,” Blackbeard said catching their movements and looked appraisingly at Killian. “I should have guessed, you have the bearing of a coward.”

 

“And you have the bearing of an arrogant ass,” Killian said as he stood up straighter and stepped forward. “Unfortunately in your case it seems looks aren’t deceiving.”

 

He heard sniggering behind him but didn’t turn to look.  Instead he crossed his arms and gave Blackbeard a half smile to show that he regarded him as nothing more than a joke.  The Brooke might have never been boarded by pirates but he’d had the unpleasant experience before.  From what he’d ascertained in the few minutes Blackbeard had been on board Killian knew that the encounter would only end in bloodshed.  How much and from whom remained to be seen.

 

“A coward and a fool!” Blackbeard crowed, his hand coming to rest blatantly on the hilt of his sword. “Wresting this ship from your control will be a hollow victory indeed.”

 

“Your preening boasts will only lead to humiliation.  One I’m only happy to provide,” Killian shot back, dropping his own hand to his sword but keeping a relaxed pose. “I am, however, willing to let you leave before that happens.  It would spare me the trouble of drawing my sword and you the pain of defeat.”

 

“It appears as though you’re inviting your own humiliation, Swan, and in front of your crew as well.  This is becoming quite the show for my men.  They had believed this to be a simple lark, one to reinvigorate their blood after a winter at port.  At least for that I’ll have to thank you,” Blackbeard bowed mockingly, grinning widely at his crew.

 

Killian was well aware that they were sizing each other up before their swords crossed.  While the true test of Blackbeard’s skill would have to wait until metal clashed with metal there were things he could already discern.  Blackbeard would be a showy fighter.  To what degree Killian couldn’t be certain but enough of one that he would be able to use it to his advantage.  The long overcoat served the dual purpose of being a visual boasting of his ill gained wealth and a as distraction to his opponent when engaged in close combat.  Even the knives strapped across his torso gave away that Blackbeard wasn’t afraid to take liberties where he could.

 

“Leave now.  Take your men back to your ship and we’ll allow you to go without any harm befalling you.  This is your final chance to do so,” Killian warned.

 

“Do you think I can be swayed by some threatening words and a crew that’s populated by women? Seems I was right about you being a fool,” Blackbeard sneered.

 

“We shall see.”

 

He punctuated his statement with the drawing of his sword.  The sibilant sound of the metal being unsheathed hung in the air for a moment, resonant and final, before it was joined by dozens of echoes.  Sparing no glances for which swords were raised Killian kept his eyes on Blackbeard, whose amusement had evaporated as a tense silence settled on the deck.  A fiery bloodlust had been stoked, it was easy to see in the man’s eyes, and yet his sword remained undrawn.

 

“You’re in way over your head, boy,” Blackbeard spat on the deck to seemingly drive home the insult. “I offer no mercy.  You engage with me and your crew will be nothing but shark bait in the end.  Well, most of your crew anyway.”

 

Baring his teeth in a lascivious smile Blackbeard let his eyes roam slowly over the places Killian knew Swan and Red were standing.  A red haze blazed across his vision but he controlled his rage, if only by the thinnest of threads.  Acting on impulse and emotion was a surefire way of getting himself killed.  Blackbeard must have seen something in him, though, because he finally unsheathed his sword and held it out in challenge.

 

Slowly the circled each other.  Killian noted the placement of the others on deck, friend and foe alike.  He was aware of their small movements that followed his own: the slight turning of their heads, the points of their swords tracking the one they were sworn against, breaths held as the tension ratcheted up to dizzying heights.  He let it all fall away.  Distractions could not be afforded in what he now knew would end in something far greater than bloodshed.  It was at that moment of realization that Blackbeard made his first move and the fight was on.

 

The first clash of their swords was quick, barely a tap.  Blackbeard was testing him but in doing so allowed Killian to test him back.  Immediately he adjusted his grip, he could tell there was definite power behind Blackbeard’s swing no matter how light the first hit had been.  Immediately his correction was tested as Blackbeard launched his attack.  The first few hits were clumsily parried but soon enough Killian found his footing in the fight.

 

Blackbeard was an excellent swordsman.  Killian would have been impressed if he wasn’t fighting for his life.  There was a hint of formal training roughened by years of piracy as they moved about the deck trading blows.  All around them swords were singing but Killian had no attention to spare as to which side was prevailing.

 

He maneuvered Blackbeard toward the prow of the ship but his feet slipped in blood splashed across the deck causing him to stumble.  Blackbeard elbowed him in the face, sending him tumbling backwards his feet flying over his head.  Barely able to get upright Killian made desperate swings causing Blackbeard to retreat marginally.  Pressing forward he used his imbalance to throw off Blackbeard’s own sure footing.  The advantage was short lived as Blackbeard stepped sideways and Killian went tripping past him.

 

They had made their way towards the helm and as Killian righted himself breathing hard he could see that there were a few fallen bodies but the fighting kept on.  He caught a glimpse of Swan midship holding her own and felt a sense of panic and awe at her skill.  Thompson wasn’t far from her at Red’s side, having acquired a sword of his own, as they fought three of Blackbeard’s crew together.  He focused back on Blackbeard and grimly saw that he had drawn a short cutlass while his attention was focused elsewhere.

 

Circling each other once more Killian forced himself to forget the formal training he’d had at the Academy.  He was an excellent swordsman but he’d hadn’t had much cause for employing his skills especially against pirates.  Only a fool would attack a royal ship and only one of the highest degree would attack one from Balliolshire.  His only practice of late had been quick sparring sessions with Thompson, whom he could anticipate his moves as easily as if they were his own.  Blackbeard was a challenge, but not an insurmountable one.

 

“I have to say you’re far more spry than I would have guessed,” Killian taunted as he carefully sidestepped over a coil of rope. “Rumor had it the years were finally catching up to you.”

 

“Vicious lies, although I believe some rumors have more truth in them than I anticipated,” Blackbeard said with a grin as he lunged forward.

 

Killian acted quickly and kicked the coil of rope into Blackbeard’s path.  He couldn’t pause to decipher what Blackbeard meant as his momentary distraction only gave him a second’s reprieve.  Their swords met once again, sparks on the verge of flying from the intensity of their hits.

 

First blood went to Killian.  He was able to nick Blackbeard’s upper arm, a scratch really, but enough that the red of his coat deepened as the blood soaked through.  After that the blows became more intense, with the purpose of maiming or killing the other.  Soon Killian and Blackbeard alike were sporting various cuts, dripping blood and sweat onto the deck.  Blackbeard had more but Killian had worse, a particularly long gash across his right cheek had his eye constantly watering, blurring his vision and a well aimed knife had rendered his left arm all but useless, but he refused to yield.  To yield was to die and condemn the crew of the Brooke with him.

 

“I must say this has been a far greater pleasure than even I anticipated,” Blackbeard huffed, parrying Killian’s thrust with his sword.  The cutlass had long since been lost. “Not only will the Brooke be mine but I’ll have the honor of killing a prince as well.”

 

“What?” Killian’s steps faltered as panic flooded through him.

 

Blackbeard swung high and Killian blocked the hit, his arm and sword overhead.  The move brought the pirate close to his face both struggling to overpower the other.  Fetid breath fanned over his face as Blackbeard spoke in a low voice.

 

“I’ve been sailing these waters for many years,” he grinned, showing off yellowed teeth. “You may be wearing the garb of a pirate and sporting the visage of a ruffian but I’d be remiss to not recognize the profile of Prince Killian.  After all, I’ve pilfered many a coin with your likeness on them.”

 

Killian could do nothing more than suck in a breath of surprise because suddenly a sharp pain exploded from his side.  Afraid to look down but helpless to do otherwise he saw Blackbeard’s hand fisted around the hilt of another one of his knives, the blade unseen deep in his gut.  He dropped his sword and the bite of Blackbeard’s own weapon into his shoulder was barely felt as he gripped the lapels of Blackbeard’s coat to keep himself upright.

 

“Pity I couldn’t collect the reward on your head.  The wanted posters specifically requested that you be returned alive.  Although the sum I’ll be collecting from the Queen substantially makes up for it.”

 

“No,” Killian gasped as Blackbeard twisted the knife.

 

“Did you think it coincidence that our paths crossed?  The Brooke is valuable but not as much as the Princess it harbors.  Luckily for me the Queen has no qualms about what state Her Royal Highness is returned.  Something I plan on enjoying wholeheartedly.”

 

Blackbeard wrenched the knife out and stepped back, letting his sword draw a deeper wound into Killian’s shoulder as he did so.  He swayed, determined to stay on his feet for the final blow.  His only regret was that he wouldn’t have a chance to warn Swan, to warn Emma, that her life was in far more immediate danger than they had believed.

 

“You’ll pay for this,” Killian spat out, the taste of blood on his lips.

 

“Perhaps, but you’ll be far too dead to see if I do.  I’ll be sure to let the Queen know not only have I secured the Princess but gotten rid of one of the thorns in her side.  This day has been fortuitous indeed,” Blackbeard laughed, raising his sword. “And tonight will be even more so.”

 

Blackbeard laughed again but abruptly grunted in surprised pain.  He looked down at his chest and Killian followed his gaze.  A sword was protruding from below his sternum, angled upwards so the tip pointed towards the sky.  The clatter of metal falling to the deck ringed in Killian’s ears as Blackbeard’s hands shakily went to the bloodstained blade.  As it was withdrawn Blackbeard’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell to the stained wood in a boneless heap.

 

Killian looked up and saw Pinocchio standing before him, bloody sword in hand, before succumbing to his injuries and letting the blackness envelop him.

 

“Get him to my cabin!  Red, keep everyone out and get us the fuck away from here!”

 

Killian groaned as he felt two pairs of arms lifting him from the deck, his return consciousness abrupt and painful.  He let himself drift in a grey wash of pain, the sounds of boots pounding on the deck became muffled as the light behind his eyelids shifted from bright and hot to dark and cool.   The yelling of commands and the grunting of the whoever was moving him were the last things he heard as he blacked out again.

 

“Can you do it?”

 

“I don’t know, but I have to try.”

 

A bright, intense, white light filled his vision as Killian once again surfaced from unconsciousness.  He felt tired, limbs heavy, and a buzzing heat was radiating from his side.  As it reached a fever pitch he gasped, his eyes flying open in shock as his back bowed off the unforgiving surface he was lying on.  He blearily recognized the light blue color of the ceiling above him as the light began to fade and he slumped back down.  Turning his head he saw that it originated not from a lantern but from Emma’s hands, which were hovering over the disappearing wound in his side that Blackbeard had inflicted.

 

“Swan?” Killian croaked, his throat drier than kindling at the height of summer.

 

“Don’t talk, you’ve lost a lot of blood,” Emma’s voice wavered as she clenched her hands into shaking fists, the light finally going out. “We’ll talk about this later.”

 

“Blackbeard?” He asked instead ignoring her instruction and becoming aware that another body was moving about the room.

 

“Dead,” she answered shortly, looking to whomever was with them. “With any luck the Revenge is dead in the water too.”

 

“Good,” he sighed, letting his his head loll back to face the ceiling and in doing so noticing the pull of stitches in his cheek.

 

“You’re glad that a man is dead and we’ve condemned who knows how many of his crew too by leaving them there?  Not to mention the ones we lost in the fight!” Emma said pained.

 

He cleared his throat and was surprised when a hand lifted his head and placed a cup at his lips.  As he drank he caught a glimpse of Pinocchio standing over him, opposite of Emma, holding the cup.  When he finished Pinocchio retreated but not before giving him a small nod.

 

“How-” he hesitated, not wanting to know the toll they had suffered. “How many dead?”

 

“We lost less than Blackbeard’s crew I can tell you that,” Emma said grimly, tears gathering in her eyes.

 

“Three by my last count,” Pinocchio said quietly. “It would have been four if Emma hadn’t gotten to you in time.”

 

Killian closed his eyes in silent prayer for the souls that had been lost.  His head was swimming, but from the loss of blood or the revelations that greeted him when he woke he wasn’t entirely sure.

 

“It could have been none if he hadn’t stepped in like that,” Emma snapped.

 

His eyes popped open and he sat up abruptly.  Killian realized he had been laid out on her desk and his shirt was missing.  Heavy linens were wrapped around his shoulder and left arm which were radiating pain as he leaned onto his hands and fought against the faintness he felt.  Then Pinocchio slammed the cup down on the table and it crystallized his focus.  Tears were coursing down Emma’s cheeks but her face was full of fury.

 

“We had no choice,” Pinocchio disagreed hotly as he rounded the desk to stand in front of her.

 

“There’s always a choice!  We could have talked to him, made him see that it was better to leave us alone.  Something other than killing him,” Emma shuddered, wiping her tears roughly from her face.

 

“This isn’t us playing at pirates anymore, Emma.  We’re at war,” Pinocchio said bluntly.

 

“No, we’re not.”

 

“Yes we are!  We can’t just hide anymore and we can’t pretend that everything will just fix itself!  It’s been ten years and it hasn’t happened yet.”

 

“But at what cost, Pinocchio?  These are people’s lives we’re talking about,” she said incredulously.

 

“Hardly innocent ones,” Pinocchio shot back.

 

Killian could see her getting ready to protest further which would only result in more yelling, hurt feelings, and only another go around at the same argument.

 

“Pinocchio’s right, Swan.  We cannot afford to be lenient, especially when we engage with the Queen’s forces in the future.  It’s guaranteed she will show us no mercy and we have to be prepared to act accordingly,” he said it with a gentle force but a ripple of pain still crossed her features.

 

He slumped down as his strength gave out, the last of his limited energy exhausted.  Swan’s hand twitched as though she wanted to reach for him but thought better of it.  Pinocchio sighed and moved to help him, slinging his uninjured arm over his shoulder and guiding him to the bed.  With a grunt of effort on both their parts he settled in only feeling a moment’s regret that he was commandeering Emma’s quarters for his own.  The pain of his injuries and fatigue doused his worry effectively.

 

Emma was watching them when he looked at her.  Her gaze was darting between them full of pain, anger, and flashes of concern as his breathing evened out.  Pinocchio glared at her defiantly almost challenging her to pick their argument back up.  Without another word she stormed from the room letting the door slam closed behind her.

 

Pinocchio sighed and Killian let his eyes slide shut.  His arm, shoulder and cheek were throbbing in time with his heartbeat.  A shaky breath left him as he tried to block his mind from the pain.  In its stead an image of Emma came to him: one of her blonde tresses flying in the wind, a sword in her hand and grinning as though she owned the world.  The vision was shattered when Pinocchio pressed his fingers onto the wound on his arm sending a sharp pain radiating down to his fingers and up through his shoulder where it aggravated the wound there.

 

“Watch it, mate” Killian hissed through gritted teeth.

 

“Sorry,” he answered not sounding sorry at all, “but these need stitches.  I was only able to stanch the bleeding and you’re starting to soak through the bandages.  Here, drink this.”

 

He held up a flask and Killian took it warily as Pinocchio stepped away and started gathering tools.  Bringing the flask to his nose he breathed in the warm spicy scent of rum and was surprised to feel that it was almost full.  He took a tentative sip.  It slid down his throat easily, no harsh burn of cheap spirits, leading him to believe he had been given a portion of the personal stash of rum kept for the captain and her officers.

 

“Drink as much as you can stomach, then bite down on this,” Pinocchio said as he stepped back up to the bed, holding out a folded strap of leather. “We can’t help this getting messy but we can at least keep the screaming to a minimum.”

 

Killian grimaced as he took a long pull from the flask.  He was no stranger to being stitched up but it never became any easier to endure.  When there was only a sip or two left he inserted the leather between his teeth and nodded once at Pinocchio, ready as he’d ever be.

 

There was no screaming but it was a close thing.  Killian feared at one point he’d bite clear through the leather, especially when Pinocchio added extra stitches to the cut on his cheek.  At the end of it he was dripping in sweat and shaking, cursing Blackbeard all over again around the obstacle in his mouth.

 

“Done,” Pinocchio announced as he snipped the thread and wiped his own sweat from his brow. “You’ll have scars but you won’t bleed to death now.”

 

“Wonderful, why couldn’t Swan just wave her hands over me and be done with it?” Killian gasped out tipping the last of the rum in the flask on his dry tongue with an unsteady hand.

 

“Don’t breathe a word of what she can do to anyone,” Pinocchio growled wrenching the flask from Killian’s hand. “Do you understand?”

 

Killian narrowed his eyes, taken aback by the sudden ferociousness.  It took only a moment more for him to recognize what it was and he thought himself a fool for not recognizing it before.  Pinocchio was being more than protective, acting almost aggressive in the shift of his behavior towards him.  They were classic signs of a classic ailment.

 

“You’re in love with her,” he marveled, tipping his head to look at the man in the light of that realization.

 

Pinocchio glared at him, a red flush creeping up from his neck.  He breathed through his nose and Killian waited for the litany of denials to fall from his lips.

 

“Of course I am,” Pinocchio said derisively, as though it was no great secret. “You’re halfway there yourself.”

 

If he hadn’t lost so much blood Killian was sure it would have been pooling in his cheeks.  Pinocchio graced him with a withering smile.

 

“Get some rest.  You’ll need it.”

 

He strode from the room, leaving Killian to stew in what he implied and gritting his teeth against the waves of pain from his injuries.  All save the one that should have killed him.

 

Before he could dwell on it and what Emma had done Thompson came bursting through the door.  His hair was matted down to his head on one side with hastily wiped away blood and he was favoring one leg but otherwise seemed unharmed.  He rushed up to Killian and stared at him wildly until his mind seemed to accept what he was seeing before him.

 

“You’re a right ass you know that?” He breathed out finally.

 

“Why?  Because I put myself in harms way or because I came to harm?” Killian asked lightly as he watched Thompson drag a chair to the side of the bed.

 

“Because you’re going to get me killed one way or another,” he answered, sitting down. “Either you’ll drag me into something where I won’t make it out or Liam will have my head for letting you drag me into something we should have left well enough alone.  It’s a no win situation for me.”

 

“Lighten up, Tommy, we’re still breathing,” Killian sighed at the dramatics, grinning all the while.

 

“Barely,” Thompson grumbled. “I wager Swan’s pissed at you.”

 

“She is.”

 

“I’m pissed at you, too, for the record.”

 

“Duly noted,” Killian nodded.  He steeled himself, “Who did we lose?”

 

“Two deckhands, Wilson and that young one Smitts.  They didn’t stand a chance,” Thompson answered softly.

 

“Who else?”

 

Thompson hesitated and Killian braced himself even more.

 

“Doc,” Thompson said sadly. “He, uh, thought he could take on one of Blackbeard’s more burly sailors.  His brothers have been holding vigil over him since they found him.  It’s a hard sight to see.”

 

Killian let out a shaky breath.  He hadn’t had much dealings with the dwarf but Doc had been kind to him when they had interacted.  From what he understood dwarves had a bond that ran deeper than mere brotherhood and his heart ached for their grief.

 

“Anyone else injured?” He asked after a moment of silence, born out of respect and acceptance of what had happened.

 

“Mostly minor cuts and bruises, nothing as bad as what you suffered, Kil,” Thompson shook his head. “Thought I’d lost you there for a moment.”

 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.  We’ve still got some glory to attain and I owe you a ship,” Killian joked to cover the lump in his throat.

 

“Too right you do,” Thompson said with a slight waver, seemingly just as affected. He cleared his throat gruffly, “You should get some rest.  I don’t doubt Swan will kick you out of these luxurious accommodations once you stop looking like Death is your bedmate.”

 

“Is that your way of saying I’m not my dashing handsome self?” Killian grinned and then winced as the motion pulled at his stitches.

 

“I’m saying you look like shit.  Alive but truly awful to look at.”

 

“Thanks,” he grimaced.

 

“You’re welcome,” Thompson settled deeper into the chair, propping his legs up on the bed. “Get some sleep because I for one am taking advantage of Swan’s orders to keep an eye on you.”

 

“Glad she’s finally given you a task you don’t hate,” Killian said tiredly.  The rum and his exhaustion finally pulling him towards the shores of sleep.

 

“Couldn’t hate it if I tried,” Thompson replied but if he said anything else it was lost as Killian closed his eyes and let himself drift away.

 

When he woke next the cabin was fully dark.  He was still on his back and he could feel the stiffness in his left side from keeping it immobilized, even in sleep.  Groaning quietly he moved to sit up trying not to disturb Thompson.  He needed to get out of the position he had been lying in for hours.  Suddenly he felt a hand helping him, one that was smaller and softer than Thompson’s and the warmth it left in its wake left him with no illusions as to whom it belonged.

 

“Swan?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

 

Instead of answering she placed a cup in his hand.  He brought it to his lips and was gratified to taste water instead of more rum.  His head had started pounding and the cool liquid felt like a balm as he swallowed.

 

Killian could barely make out her form as she sat down in the chair Thompson had occupied when he had fallen asleep.  He was about to suggest lighting a lamp when she started talking and he could immediately tell he was to listen and not interrupt.

 

“One of the things constantly drilled into me by my mother was that everyone deserved a chance, a choice.  It could be a farmer that was behind on his taxes or a man who killed someone over a petty disagreement.  They should be treated fairly no matter how they ended up where they were.  My father didn’t always agree but he understood and tried to get me to do the same when I questioned some of their rulings.

 

“I guess I didn’t realize how hard it would be to realize that sometimes fairness can’t apply to everyone.  My mother realized it with Regina, banishing her and getting protection from the Dark One against her.  I’m not saying what Pinocchio did to Blackbeard was right or deserved but he told me what he’d overheard, the threats Blackbeard made.  He’d made his choice and Pinocchio had to make one too.”

 

She took in a shuddering breath.  Killian waited a moment to see if she would go on.  When she didn’t he shifted himself so his legs hung over the side of the bed and he was situated closer to her.

 

“Making tough decisions is part of who you are.  It comes with being a leader, whether it be of a crew of a couple dozen or a land with several thousand subjects.  I’m not aware of what tutors you had or what lessons you were taught but it’s easy to see that you will be a formidable but just queen.  Having said that there are times where being tenderhearted is not an option.  I’m only sorry you’ve had to find out this way.”

 

Emma scoffed but didn’t move from the chair or refute his claim.  They both remained quiet, lost in thought.  Finally Killian hazard to ask the question that had been plaguing him since he came to in her quarters.

 

“You have magic?”

 

“Born with it,” she said, trying to affect indifference but he could hear the wariness in her voice.

 

“It’s quite handy it would seem,” he said in the same casual tone.

 

“Right,” she huffed but he saw her form relax marginally. “A lot of good it did me today.”

 

“But it did,” Killian retorted confused.

 

“Do you know why we’ve never been boarded before?” She asked but didn’t wait for him to answer. “I usually cloak the ship when we’re in dangerous waters or if we spot a ship in time that we know we can’t outrun.”

 

“I should have warned you sooner,” Killian breathed remorsefully.

 

“And I shouldn’t have let my guard down in waters we haven’t sailed before.  The Revenge came on us too quickly and we probably would have had the same outcome even if we’d had more time.  I don’t blame you and I don’t blame myself but people are dead and we have to live with that,” her head dropped as her breathing wavered.

 

“What about your magic?  Surely it’s helpful in a fight?” Killian asked, fighting the urge to comfort her in some way with more than mere words.

 

“It’s unreliable, especially when my emotions are getting the better of me,” she laughed self derisively. “I was only taught how to control my magic, not how to really use it.  Blue said we’d get to it eventually.  Turns out Regina wouldn’t let me get to that point.”

 

“She knows you have magic?”

 

“No, but I think she suspects it.  I’ve been able to evade her for ten years and I could only do that if I had some kind of magic on my side.  Sending you and your brother after me just proved that she can’t do anything with her own magic to find me.  A small consolation to what I can do I guess,” she took a deep breath. “Anyway that’s all of my sad little story you’ll get tonight.  I’m sorry I couldn’t heal your other cuts but…”

 

She trailed off and then stood, shifting awkwardly on her feet.

 

“Don’t worry, love, I’ve had worse,” he grinned, hoping she could see part of it in the dimly lit cabin.

 

“I’m sure,” she laughed, it was quiet but genuine. “You should go back to sleep.  I shouldn’t have rambled so much.”

 

“I’m glad that you did,” he said quietly.

 

“Me too,” she whispered back.

 

She stepped back from him, as though afraid he would try to reach for her and walked towards the door.  Before she could open it, however, he spoke.

 

“Thank you, Emma, for saving my life.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she pulled open the door and then turned to speak over he shoulder, “Killian.”

 

She slipped out of the cabin and pulled the door closed behind her.  Killian laid back down, the pain from his wounds nothing compared to the warmth he felt coursing through him.  Pinocchio was wrong.  He wasn’t halfway towards loving Emma, he was already there and he had the feeling that she was tumbling down with him.


	11. Lost in Memories

Killian’s recovery was happening at an annoyingly slow pace.  He didn’t begrudge Emma for not using her magic to speed things along.  While he had agreed to keep her secret it meant letting his shoulder and arm wounds heal naturally and acting as though he had one in the stomach as well.  To keep up their farce he had remained in Emma’s quarters for a few days, actually recovering from his injuries, before moving into Pinocchio’s.  It served the purpose of keeping people from becoming suspicious and allowing him a modicum of privacy he hadn’t enjoyed since he had left the Jewel.

 

A week into being confined to the cabin had him pacing like a wild animal in a cage.  He’d once seen a chimera on display in a fellow royal’s menagerie and had been taken aback by what he thought to be frustrated rage in the beast’s sets of eyes.  More than once he’d had to remind himself that he could control his own frustration and couldn’t just burst out of his confines as the chimera had done mere days after he had seen it.  Thompson tried his best to keep him entertained but he had duties to perform and when he visited Killian had to remain in his bunk.

 

It had been a vicious fight between him, Emma, and Pinocchio about keeping Thompson in the dark about the Emma’s magic.  He had refused to speak to either of them after they, in turn, refused to listen to his entreaties.  Red had been the one to calm both sides and explain to him that aside from Emma’s parents and the Blue Fairy they were the only three souls that knew that Emma had magic.  She didn’t deny Killian’s accusations that the other two still didn’t like Thompson but he had let the issue drop, and kept up pretenses when Thompson was around.  It had been exhausting to recover from his injuries and keep up a front of indignation.

 

After another week he had been given permission by Pinocchio, who had taken over the position of ship’s physician, to leave his cabin and be allowed to move about the ship for short periods of time.  Up until that point he had only been on deck once, for Doc and the deckhands’ interment at sea and he had been eager for the wind and sea air to clear him of the vestiges of that memory.  Pinocchio had to force him to return to below deck after an hour or two with threats every time he appeared above board, a set routine that neither one of them enjoyed.

 

Despite the confinement and his desire to shed the bandages to return to full duty the appeal of spending time with Emma was almost worth it.  She had still used her quarters during the day when he had been there, not talking at first because of their fight but then slowly engaging in small conversations about the running of the ship or the slight changes in course she’d had to make.  When he moved to Pinocchio’s quarters she’d stop by at least once during the day, mostly to tease him about how nice the weather was on deck but sometimes she would linger and he relished every moment she did.

 

It was in his third week of recovery and he had finally been given light duties despite Pinocchio’s protests.  His left arm needed to be kept tightly strapped to his side so that he didn’t aggravate and disrupt the healing of his shoulder.  Even with the limits to his mobility he was far happier than he’d been at any point below deck.  Emma had mostly relegated him to navigation and charting their course, appeasing both his complaints about idleness and Pinocchio’s warnings of overwork.  They were quickly approaching the fjords of Arendelle and he alone knew what routes would keep them out of harm’s way yet allow them to approach Elsa’s castle without adding extra days or even weeks to their travels.

 

As for his feelings for Emma Killian had all but pushed them aside.  He wasn’t ignoring them, something that all encompassing and life altering could not be ignored, but he was not in a place or a frame of mind to act upon them.  There was a time where he would have and did, when he was young and naive in the ways of the  heart.  The romance had turned out to mean nothing more to the girl than the hopes of raising the social status of her and her family.  Thompson had been the one to break through his love addled senses with the harsh truth.  From that point on Killian had refused to allow his romantic notions to overshadow his more logical sensibilities.  It had worked well for him in the past and he planned to continue to do so with what he was feeling for Emma.

 

It helped that she continued to address him by his alias or merely sailor, even when they were alone.  She hadn’t called him by his given name since the night after she had healed him.  He had followed her lead.

 

“Why Swan?” Killian asked.

 

They were in Emma’s quarters going over the finer details of how they’d approach Elsa’s castle.  The crimson flag they had flown had been lowered and stowed away not long after their run in with Blackbeard.  There were no other flags flying in it’s place, they reasoned they’d actually get a chance to explain the missing colors than risk being blown out of the water by Elsa’s navy.

 

“Hmm?” Emma responded absently as she wrote in her log.

 

“Swan, it’s not exactly a common name.  Unless of course you always intended to become a notorious pirate who inspired awe with her grace and sometimes a touch of fear from her ferocity,” Killian smirked when she looked up at him to roll her eyes, causing her to laugh instead.

 

“No, this kind of just happened,” she said, gesturing at the ship around her. “I hated going to the docks when I was little but my dad dragged me along to ‘better appreciate’ what our people did to serve us.  After we escaped we tried hiding out in villages and the forest but Regina knew that tactic from when she tried to kill my mother the first time.  The seas ended up being the only way to escape and our only refuge.”

 

Emma looked out the windows, seemingly lost in her memories.

 

“And becoming a pirate just happened too?” Killian prodded.

 

“Yeah,” she sighed, looking back at him. “My mom was a bandit when she was on the run.  Robbing from Regina’s carriages and other less than savoury royals for their money and jewels.  Figured I’d follow in her footsteps.”

 

“If her being a bandit had anything to do with her rule as Queen I’d say you’ve chosen a worthy, if not quite upstanding, vocation, love.  However, that still doesn’t answer my question,” he grimaced as he adjusted his position across from her, his shoulder protesting dully at the movement. “Why Swan?”

 

She huffed out a laugh, a small wistful smile playing at her lips.  It dropped to a frown as he kept trying to find a comfortable way to sit in the chair without aggravating his wounds.  The arms of the chair was just a bit too high to rest his arm on and they were placed just close enough together that he would have to wedge himself in to sit properly.  He scooted forward with a scowl and twirled his hand at her, hoping she would get the idea and distract him with her story.

 

“Need a hand, Jones?” She asked her lips twitching with mirth.

 

“Very funny, love, quite humorous,” he grumbled. “What I need we’ve already dismissed so I won’t bother asking.”

 

Rolling her eyes at him he watched as she settled back in her own chair and a grin made an appearance.  He’d made it a point to bring up the fact that she could heal him with magic as often as possible.  It helped him deal with the frustration of the circumstances while letting her know that her possessing magic didn’t bother him.  She hadn’t been amused at first but her open smile and dancing eyes let him know that he’d made definite progress.

 

“Funny you should bring that up,” she mused, her smile softening.  He looked at her quizzically and she laughed, “My magic is kind of the reason I go by Swan.  My dad called me his little Swan Princess before… well, before all of this.  My mom didn’t find the nickname as amusing as he did.”

 

“I’m sensing this will be a thrilling tale,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“So thrilling,” she rolled her eyes but her smile only grew. “I was six, maybe seven, at the time.  I’m not exactly sure what’s my memories or what I’m just repeating because I’ve heard the story so much but I remember that Granny had taken me out to the garden.  I think it was spring or maybe early summer but it was warm when we went outside.  There was a pond, not very big but enough for some ducks and fish to swim around in.”

 

“Let me guess, a swan had made its home there as well?”

 

“Is this my story or not?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.  The effect was ruined by the playfulness he saw in them. “The swan had always been there, actually.  I remember being scared of her and not wanting to go to the pond to feed the ducks if she was anywhere close to them.  She was so big and when she opened her wings I thought she’d pick me up and fly me away or just knock me down and never let me up.”

 

“Sounds quite savage for a water fowl,” Killian said trying to contain his laughter. “I’m amazed you survived.”

 

“Ha ha.  What, you didn’t have swans at your castle?  Let me guess, instead of gardens you had grottos and terns and herons in place of ducks and geese?”

 

She laughed at her own joke and he marvelled at the sound.  It was free of cynicism or self deprecation and it sounded clear and pure as a bell for it.  He chuckled himself.

 

“Not quite.  Our castle isn’t at the shore, makes it too susceptible to attack from the sea and vulnerable from land as well.  We can, however see much of the coastline from most windows and turrets.  There are no ponds or streams in our gardens but plenty of birds make it their home without them.  The peacocks were a particular favorite of my mother’s, bloody idiot preeners if you ask me.”

 

Emma laughed again, “My grandfather had peacocks too.  They probably scared me more than the swan but then again so did he.”

 

A troubled look crossed her face.  Killian knew of her grandfather, King George, only through reading about Misthaven’s history and the stories he’d heard about him during his travels.  The man was reportedly merciless and unforgiving especially where Prince James was concerned but had come to a shaky alliance with Queen Snow once she regained her throne from the Queen.  He had read rumors that King George had only agreed to the alliance once Emma was born.  Killian couldn’t imagine a father being so vindictive against his only son that an alliance that should have been formed through marriage was only brought about by producing an heir to both kingdoms.

 

“All show, they are love.  Unlike swans I gather,” he teased gently.

 

“You’re not wrong,” her smile returned, which was his goal. “Anyway, when Granny took me out that time I didn’t know that the swan had had babies-”

 

“Cygnets.”

 

“Whatever.  I’d never seen the male, although I guess I could say I’d never seen the two swans together since I would run from the pond if I saw only one of them.  They were so cute, bigger than ducklings and all grey, I remember there were five of them out in the pond swimming around their mother.  It was the first time I didn’t want to leave when I saw her.  I didn’t want to leave at all actually.  According to everyone but me I threw a tantrum when Granny tried to take me back to the castle for supper.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

Emma threw him a look at his comment but he could tell she was truly enjoying herself.  She was smiling widely, her eyes soft and glittering with her memories.

 

“I do know I was sent to my nursery without supper and a warning that I’d be getting a lecture from my mom about how a princess should behave.  They had Pinocchio and his dad, Geppetto, stay with me since Pinocchio was probably the only one I’d be nice to at the time.  I was telling them all about the ‘ _ cygnets _ ’ when it happened.”

 

“Swan, you didn’t!”

 

Killian couldn’t decide if he was more amused or horrified, not because of her magic but because of what he had guessed had happened.  Upon seeing his face Emma started laughing and couldn’t seem to stop even as she continued her story.

 

“I didn’t- didn’t mean t-to!  I jus-just wanted Pino-huh-occhio to see-hee them too!” She snorted inelegantly and started laughing harder. “Only- pfft- only I didn’t bri-bring the babies.  I brought the MOM!”

 

She could barely finish the sentence, collapsing into peals of laughter.  Killian found himself laughing with her.  The story was highly amusing but her reaction to it, the pure joy she was exuding was infectious.  Their laughter rang out in the cabin, loud and carefree, and for the first time Killian felt lighter, less burdened, and more at ease than he had in far too long.

 

Finally, after several minutes of mirth their laughter tapered off into chuckles and hiccups as they tried to catch their breath.

 

“Who was more surprised, you, Geppetto, or the swan?” Killian asked once he was sure he could get the question out without breaking into laughter once more.

 

“I’m not sure,” Emma said as she wiped tears from her eyes. “It took three guards and a heavy drape to get the swan under control and back out to the garden.  I had to use the library as my nursery for a week or so while they fixed everything that the swan and guards had broken trying to get her back to the pond.

 

“So I ended up getting a lecture about proper behavior and a hasty lesson about magic.  After that my dad called me the Swan Princess.  Actually that’s the last thing he said to me.”

 

All the joy dropped from her face and Killian watched as her lower lip wobbled slightly.

 

“What’s that, love?” He asked quietly.

 

“He, uh, before he went off to fight Regina’s men he kissed my forehead and said ‘Be strong and no matter what happens your mother and I love you, my little Swan Princess,’” Emma took in a shuddering breath and cleared her throat. “It seemed the perfect moniker for a pirate captain.”

 

He could feel her melancholy start to descend.  The result of which he knew she would either close herself off from her emotions and him or merely dismiss him from her quarters entirely.  Pushing his own feelings for her aside he couldn’t allow her to continue to hide behind her walls, it would do her no favor in the end.

 

“Was this the first time you discovered you had magic then?”

 

“Um, not exactly, no,” she said slowly, face screwing up in concentration. “That was the first time I had done anything that dramatic but I remember lighting candles when I was afraid of the dark or a sweet bun appearing on my plate when I couldn’t reach it on the table.”

 

“And you were placed under the fairy Blue’s tutelage?”

 

Killian remembered her mentioning it but it was lost in the memory of the pain he’d been in at the time.  He had never seen a fairy.  They were mostly protectors of the denizens of Misthaven and to him were nothing more than fanciful stories told to children.  He was fascinated that Emma had not only met one but that she’d had personal dealings with them.  It was as though learning that Emma had magic opened up a well spring of curiosity in him to discover all he could about how it was used for good.  Between the Queen and the tales told of the Dark One he found his knowledge of magic was woefully one sided.

 

“Not right away.  She’d check in on me whenever there was a meeting of my mom’s council, which wasn’t very often and tell me to be careful but not much else.  It wasn’t until I turned twelve that she would come to the castle once a week and I began learning to control my magic,” Emma flicked her wrist and every wick in the cabin was instantaneously lit. “Took me three months to get that little trick right with just one candle.”

 

“Impressive, love,” Killian grinned at the display, his smile widening when the flames all snuffed out with another twist of her hand. “Quite a show.”

 

“That’s all that stuff is good for,” she said with a shrug. “I could make objects disappear from one side of a room and appear on the other or change the color of my dress if I wanted and sometimes I could heal the scratches and cuts that Pinocchio and I would get when we snuck out of the castle but what’s the use of all that when your dad is fighting off dark knights and Regina is using her magic to imprison your mom?  All I had been taught were useless parlour tricks and my parents, my kingdom, has suffered for it.”

 

Emma pushed back from her desk in a rage.  He knew her frustration was not with him but he felt it directed as such as she paced the length of her cabin, refusing to look at him.

 

“The Queen has years of experience on you, Swan.  I doubt anyone other than the Dark One himself would have been able to stop her, if he had been so inclined.  You are guilty of nothing that has happened because of the Queen’s doings, with or without your magic,” he grabbed her wrist as she passed by him squeezing it gently. “Your magic has kept your crew from harm, Blackbeard’s assault aside, and it saved my life.  I don’t believe for a moment that you are capable of nothing more than mere parlour tricks.”

 

A knock sounded at the door before she could respond but Killian thought he saw a flash of gratitude at what he’d said in her eyes.

 

“Yes?” She called out as she slipped her arm from his grip.

 

“I thought we’d go over the supply levels, oh hello Killian, if you have an estimation on when we’ll be arriving in Arendelle,” Red said as she bustled into the cabin, her arms laden with sheets of parchment.

 

Killian jumped up from his seat and offered it to her with a grimace.  His shoulder was beginning to ache fiercely and the sudden movement hadn’t helped.

 

“Take it Red,” he insisted when she paused. “I’m due on deck as it is and I’d like to see if Pinocchio has found the willow bark for tea yet.  To answer your question we should arrive in Arendelle within the week, weather permitting.”

 

“You don’t need to go now, Jones,” Emma said softly.

 

“Alas, I do,” he said in return, careful to keep his surprise at her reluctance to let him go out of his voice. “I may not be on active watch duty but I need to inform Thompson and Grumpy to keep a weathered eye out for Arendelle patrols.  The closer we get the more likely we’ll come across one and we shouldn’t be caught unaware as we were with Blackbeard.  Ladies.”

 

He gave them a small bow and left the cabin, closing the door behind him.  As he made his way to Pinocchio’s temporary quarters he found himself silently thanking whatever providence that made Red decide to interrupt them when she did.  Seeing Emma so open and unguarded had caught him unawares.  Killian wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have blurted out his true feeling for her, or worse, pulled her into his lap and kissed her senseless.  Truly, Red had fantastic timing.

 

His relief was compounded by Pinocchio giving him the willow bark for tea, enough that it would last him a few days, and the good news that he could dispense with the wrappings keeping his arm at his side.  Pinocchio frowned at the vigor that he’d pulled the bandages off, nearly ripping them in his haste, but he hadn’t cared.  Any kind of freedom he was allotted was welcome, even as his unused muscles protested at his careful movements once the bandages were gone.  With a word of thanks and a promise to not overwork himself he left.

 

In his elation he found himself torn as to whom to share the good news with first.  Killian immediately wanted to return to Emma’s quarters and show her that he was a whole man once again.  Not someone to be coddled or set aside for fear that he might break.  Then he felt guilty for his unfair thoughts.  Emma had never treated him as lesser because of his injuries, it was all his own insecurities and judgements that he saw reflected back at him by how he thought she must see him.

 

Thompson was an equally tempting choice to celebrate with but Killian would have to watch himself with him still.  He was free to move his arm as much as he was able but he’d have to put on the act that his stomach wound was still on the mend.  A wave of bitterness rose up in him that even his joy was tempered by complications.  With a scowl he headed towards the galley instead, the throbbing in his shoulder and arm making the decision for him.

 

The tea had barely cooled before Thompson found him sulking in front of it.

 

“I don’t know what the tea leaves said but I will challenge it to a duel restore your honor,” Thompson said seriously before laughing and sitting across from him. “Pinocchio gave me the good news.  Well, more like boasted that he’d finally be able to move back to his quarters now that you’re ‘as good as can be expected.’  One day I’m going to punch him square on the jaw and I won’t even pretend to be sorry about it.”

 

Killian huffed out a laugh, “Do you think the extra duties or a stay in the brig would be worth it?”

 

“Maybe a good jab to the nose then, I’d want to earn my punishment with a show of blood.”

 

He had made the mistake of taking his first sip of tea at that moment and nearly snorted it up his nose.  Killian wasn’t sure where the good humor that was affecting everyone was coming from but he enjoyed it.  Thompson’s laughter at him sputtering in his tea was loud and unchecked causing Killian to laugh even harder.  Soon he was wiping tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand, much like Emma had done earlier.

 

“Oh, no.  I know that look,” Thompson said suddenly sobering.

 

“What look?” Killian said, puzzled and still chuckling as he remembered his laughing fit from before.

 

“That one, the one that makes you look all moony eyed and...” Thompson narrowed his eyes, studying him. “Oh, bloody hell, you’ve gone and done it haven’t you?”

 

“I haven’t done a thing aside from nearly wasting all of my tea.”

 

Killian tested his arm by reaching behind him for a rag to mop up the tea that had splashed out of the cup.  It was stiff and he groaned quietly as he stretched his shoulder out.  Turning back with the rag in hand he was slightly annoyed by how much of the tea he had spilled and hoped the half filled cup was enough to help with the pain.

 

“You should have just slept with her and been done with it.  Liam was a bloody fool to tell you to keep it in your pants,” Thompson muttered.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Killian busied himself with cleaning the mess, avoiding Thompson’s eyes and hoping the conversation wasn’t going where he thought it might.

 

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” Thompson hissed. “You’ve gone and fallen for Swan haven’t you?”

 

Looking up sharply Killian found Thompson staring hard at him.  There was no anger in his gaze but he could feel the judgement and wariness in it.  He knew exactly why Thompson was looking at him that way.

 

“Tommy, it’s not like that.”

 

“Really?  Because the last time you said that I ended up having to chase you down in Camelot while hoping your father didn’t see fit to send me to the stocks for letting you out of my sight.  Liam still hasn’t forgiven me,” Thompson looked around and lowered his voice further. “I know she’s a gorgeous lass and full of spirit but Kil, we’ve been down this road before.  You have been down this road before.”

 

“You think I’ve forgotten?  How could I when my reputation stems from it?  Quite a burden to carry when my only crime was to fall in love,” Killian snapped.

 

It had been the year he’d graduated from the Academy, fresh faced and believing he knew exactly how the world worked.  He had been treated as every other cadet had been: that he was nothing special unless he earned the respect and honor through his training and actions.  It was exactly what he’d wanted after the endless tutors drilling protocol and etiquette into him by his tutors and nurse maids.  The freedom that had come with his final years had been more than welcome as well.

 

He’d prided himself on his by the book disposition on campus but the second he and Thompson stepped foot outside the Academy’s walls all bets were off.  They had cheated countless drunks out of their money at either cards or dice, always anonymously giving the winnings to the orphanage at the end of their night.  Liquor had been poured freely and he’d found his proclivity for rum out of all the spirits available.  The one thing he’d held himself in check with was the lasses of the village they frequented.

 

It was one of the few lessons that he’d never dismissed out of hand from his father: the importance of finding a partner in life to love and share the burden of the crown with.  While he wasn’t next in line for the throne his father had explained that their duties and obligations to their people made them unique and that whomever they chose to spend their life with not only had to understand that but be willing to do the same.  His mother was the epitome of his father’s hope for his sons, she hadn’t been born to royalty but her comportment and love for the kingdom made her a perfect match and a wonderful ruler.  She was what Killian had measured every girl he’d met up to, out of his own love and respect for her.

 

Killian had met Jacqueline on his way to the tavern on a warm spring night.  He had been on his way to meet Thompson and a few other cadets having been held back by one of his commanding officers.  His mood had been joyous, he’d been recommended for an officer’s commission on one of the flagships upon his graduation which had been mere months away at that point.  Jacqueline had stepped out of a shop and directly into his path, colliding with him bodily sending her wares tumbling onto the cobblestones.

 

They had both hastily dropped down to pick up what had fallen when she had lost her balance and ended up in his arms.  She was beautiful, only a year or two younger than himself, with long auburn hair that cascaded down her back in gentle waves and hazel eyes that shifted colors, even as he looked into them.  With her blush and stammered thanks he was lost to her.

 

It wasn’t long before he was skipping out of lessons to meet with her, shirking his duties and ignoring the protests of his friends.  Thompson hadn’t approved of her from the start and Killian had resorted to lying and deceiving him as much as his teachers and officers.  Within a month he had gone from the top of his class to nearly the bottom and he hadn’t cared.  He’d had Jacqueline.

 

Thompson had finally exploded as Killian had been preparing to leave for the village in the middle of the day once again.  He’d hurled accusations and suspicions, how he felt she didn’t feel as strongly as Killian did and that there were rumors about her intentions.  The last straw had been Thompson’s insistence that Jacqueline was just using him for his crown and he had reacted violently.  Killian had stormed out of their dorm with bleeding knuckles, Thompson on the ground with both his eyes blackening as a result of his broken nose and a split lip.

 

Jacqueline had nursed his hands and suggested that they run away together.  She whispered in his ear how they could elope, that she would be a princess and then no one could tell them what to do.  Her honeyed words had been like a balm, soothing him and convincing him that it was the only course of action left to them.  It was then that he’d told her he loved her and in her passionate response he hadn’t realized that she never returned the sentiment.

 

A week later they were stealing away to Camelot.  Killian couldn’t trust that word wouldn’t reach his father of his elopement, even if the only witness would have been a priest.  They had left under the cover of night and travelled for three days before leaving Balliolshire behind.  Jacqueline had kept up a quiet but consistent stream of complaints as they travelled but Killian had brushed them aside, believing that they were just her way of dealing with leaving her family and friends in the dark about what they were doing.  By the time they had reached a village with a church her temperament had changed drastically but again he ignored it, explaining it away as a result of their non-stop travelling.

 

It wasn’t a day later that Thompson had found him as he had been walking towards the priest’s house to set up the elopement.  Thompson was covered in sweat from a hard ride and dust from the road he’d taken to get there.  The bruises around his eyes were turning a sickly yellow color and his nose was swollen all of which were nothing of note compared to the sadness in his gaze.  Without a word he had handed Killian several pieces of parchment and stood silently while he read them.

 

He had immediately recognized Jacqueline’s writing and felt a rage wash over him that Thompson had gone through his personal effects to find the letters she had written him.  Then he took a closer look and realized that they weren’t the letters to him, they were addressed to her mother.  Flipping through the other sheets he saw the responses her mother, Lady Drizella, had written in return.  With an unsteady hand he turned back to the first letter and began to read.

 

What unfolded was a web that had been weaved to deceive and ensnare him wholly.  Jacqueline had been sent to her aunt’s house with the sole hope that she would run into Killian, having been alerted to the fact that the he was at the Academy and frequently went to the village.  Their initial meeting had been no accident, she had waited for him to walk by and stepped into his path purposefully.  From there she had asked and received advice from her mother on how to secure a place by his side and a crown on her head.  The harshest blow had been in Jacqueline’s final letter where she stated that she hoped a crown was worth being tied to a man she would never love.

 

Killian had been devastated.  He’d felt as though his heart had been turned to ice and shattered in his chest but stubbornly decided to keep beating.  Thompson had quietly asked if he wanted to confront Jacqueline before she was banished back to her family estate in Misthaven.  A part of him had wanted to send her off without so much as a glance, the thought of seeing her, knowing the depths of her betrayal had left him cold.  It was only his need to know why that propelled him back to the inn where they had spent the night and where she was being held.

 

She had been crying, he could tell.  Whether it was for his discovery of the truth or for her own circumstances he hadn’t known.  As soon as she entered the room she threw herself at his feet and sobbed through her confession.  Nothing was denied, she had only wanted him for the rise in standing he could bring her and her family and his heart broke anew for it.  Without a word he turned from the room and left the pieces of his heart behind.

 

He returned to the Academy and threw himself into his studies, making up for his absences and more, once again rising to the top of the class.  Rumors had followed his reappearance, that he had grown bored and merely spent his time away bedding a lass to further break up the monotony of cadet life.  Upon graduation he took the commission that had been offered him and sailed from port to port realizing that the rumor had started to spread past the walls of the Academy from fellow graduates who had anchored there before him.  Prince Killian of Balliolshire was sowing his wild oats and no woman was immune to his charms when he returned to land.  It wasn’t long before he began to capitalize on it and hardened his heart against any attempts to steal it away.

 

Then he had met Emma.

 

“You know that I know that your reputation is based on lies but you’ve gone to great lengths to keep it going, even though you hate it.  It’s been better, these past couple of years.  I just don’t want to see you spiral downwards again, it’s not an easy thing to stand by and watch as it’s happening,” Thompson said earnestly.

 

“I didn’t ask you to,” Killian sighed, finally drinking his lukewarm tea.  He desperately wished for some rum to go along with it.

 

“You didn’t need to, mate,” Thompson said as he produced a flask and proceeded to pour its contents in the cup Killian had emptied. “Did you know your father is the reason I even got in the Academy?  My father owed him, like he owed many people, and I had been the one sent to plea for leniency.  I guess my father thought yours would go easier on a kid.  Your father saw right through it of course.”

 

Thompson took a swallow from the flask.  Killian followed suit not wanting to distract Thompson.  He rarely spoke of his past and never about his father.

 

“I had shown up on the day of the week your father opened his doors to his subjects to listen to their woes.  There were so many people before me and many more behind me, complaining about their neighbors or unfair landlords and there I was a lad of thirteen begging on my father’s behalf.  I already hated him but my lot in life had been set, or so I thought.

 

“When it was my turn I burned with humiliation at having to voice my father’s woes and ask forgiveness.  I could barely look up at your father, let alone meet his eye but I stated my purpose clearly.  Next thing I know I’m being ushered into antechamber by a guard and told to wait there.  I thought I’d end up losing a hand as a way to settle my father’s debts.  Instead your father offered me a chance I’d never thought I’d get: a way out and to choose the man I wanted to be not the one my father was molding me into.  I didn’t hesitate. I barely had time to breathe before I was on my way to the Naval Academy, with nothing but a letter from the king in one hand and the clothes on my back.”

 

Taking another slug from the flask Thompson leaned onto his elbows on the table.

 

“It wasn’t a coincidence that I was assigned as your roommate from the start.  That was the one thing your father asked of me, to be a friend and to watch your back.  Not to spy on you,” Thompson corrected quickly as Killian felt indignation rise. “There were plenty of other cadets and officers there to do that for him.  He had told me that I had proven that I could be loyal even when I was displeased with the circumstances and if I could do that for a man I hated then I would do so much more for one I honored.  I think he also wanted you to have a friend, you were pretty pathetic when I met you.”

 

Killian laughed as he remembered their first meeting.  He had been holed up in his room, guards stationed outside his doors, when Thompson burst in throwing his belongings on the bed Killian wasn’t occupying.  The term had already started and Killian had resigned himself to missing out on the camaraderie that came with having a roommate, believing that his royal status prevented a commoner from living in close quarters with him.  Thompson’s dramatic arrival quelled that notion.

 

“I thought the guards were going to throw you out,” Killian said with a grin.

 

“I thought you were going to throw me out for disturbing your reading.  Honestly, what twelve year old enjoys reading their school books when there’s a whole new life to explore?” Thompson tipped more rum into Killian’s cup and gave him a sad smile. “I could have handled the Jacqueline thing better.  Instead I let my sense of duty to your father outweigh my friendship with you.  After that I vowed to support your decisions, even when your brother threatens to disembowel me for it.”

 

“Tommy-”

 

Thompson held up his hand, stopping Killian from saying a word.

 

“I know you’re keeping something from me.  Something more than whatever it is you’re feeling for Swan.  Just... just be careful, Kil.  There’s more on the line than just your reputation this time.”

 

With that Thompson stood and left Killian stupefied in his wake.  He felt guilt crashing over him in waves.  While it hadn’t been his decision to keep Thompson in the dark he had gone along with it anyhow.  Even his rebelling against it hadn’t lasted long and he realized that perhaps it was because he enjoyed sharing something so profound and precious with Emma.  That he was somehow closer to her because of what he knew.  It was a poor way to treat his friend after all they had been through.

 

After he finished his rum he returned to Pinocchio’s quarters and gathered his belongings.  He knew he still couldn’t share Emma’s secret but he could atone for his behavior.  That night when Thompson returned to their cabin to find Killian back in his bunk no comment was made.  It wasn’t needed.

 

A few days later Emma finally sought him out while he was manning the helm, unspoken proof that he had earned some trust.  They’d had several conversations since Thompson’s warning but he no longer joined her in her quarters or sought her out for individual attention.  He was well aware that she thought his behavior suspect and was surprised it took her as long as it had to confront him about it.

 

“You’re avoiding me,” she accused gently as she stood next to him facing aft.

 

“Not exactly, love, but close enough to appear that I am,” Killian said, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

 

She looked surprised that he hadn’t denied it.  He could see her profile in his periphery and saw her purse her lips.

 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Any reason why?  Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, it’s nothing that you’ve done but it does regard something you’ve asked of me,” he said as he adjusted their course slightly. “Once we arrive in Arendelle there is a choice you need to make.”

 

“A choice?” She turned to face him fully. “Let me guess, one that I have to make on my own and whatever I decide will change the outcome of what we’ve set ourselves up to do?”

 

“Aye,” he gave her half a smile still scanning the expanse of water before him. “Not many people outside of Arendelle are aware that Queen Elsa is gifted with magic.  An unfortunate incident in her youth has forced her to be circumspect with it and thus a large reason why she keeps her kingdom nearly autonomous.

 

“Queen Elsa would be able to help you with your own magic, not just controlling it but harnessing it to use as you are intended to.  But only if you are willing to accept it.”

 

“She has magic?” Emma breathed out. “How has she kept it a secret and how do you know about it?”

 

“Never said it was a secret, Swan.  Her entire kingdom knows along with some foreign royalty, especially those who have earned her trust.  She just doesn’t bandy it about like some queens are wont to do,” Killian gave her a quick wink. “As for my knowing she was a close friend of our mother’s which has afforded us the grace of her good will and her confidence, if not the trade agreement we’ve been negotiating on for years.”

 

“So I need to decide if I want to learn to use my magic with her or not?  Is that it?”

 

“Yes, the Queen has magic and it would be good to have yours to use on our side.  Just know that whatever you decide I will remain your ally,” he said, sneaking a glance at her.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was looking at him warily.

 

“I’m well known in Queen Elsa’s court and her castle guards are familiar with my face.  Even with the pirate garb and beard they will know who I am the second they get a good look.  As it is I’m tired of hiding myself, my purpose, and when I show up in Arendelle word will spread fast that King Brennan’s murderer has been sighted.  Elsa can only protect me for so long but I don’t want to bring trouble to her door.

 

“I’ll remain at the castle long enough to see you and your crew settled in.  If you decide that learning magic is what you want to do then I will communicate it to Elsa, if not your secret will continue to remain between only us.  Either way I won’t be staying much longer than a fortnight.”

 

“Is that why you were avoiding me because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell me you’re abandoning me to my face?” She asked heatedly.

 

“Of course not, Swan!” He stared at her, shocked by her accusation. “I would never abandon you, I said I would remain your ally.”

 

“But you’re still going to leave,” she reminded him, her voice sharp.

 

“I have no other choice,” he said resigned as he reluctantly looked forward again.

 

Being discovered was only partially the reason he had decided to leave her side.  It was the only reason he could tell her at least.  He couldn’t tell her the truth.  He was leaving to protect her, keep the fight away from her as long as possible, but he was also leaving to protect himself.  To protect the heart he had rediscovered on their journey.

 

“There’s always a choice,” she said softly.  He looked at her, curious as to the change in her tone. “I told you so that night after Blackbeard’s attack and I’m telling you now.  There is always another choice, you just have to be strong enough to make it.”

 

Killian looked at her in awe.  She was looking at him with a sad but steely gaze as though she had made one such decision herself.  It was then that he realized he did have another option: to remain by her side, fight with her to restore her kingdom and to fight for her and her heart.  A yell from above them broke his moment of revelation.

 

“Ship ahoy!  Off the starboard bow and approaching fast!”

 

He looked for himself and saw a small frigate on the horizon he had been carefully watching.  As he watched their course adjusted and began to head straight for them.

 

“I guess we both have things we need to consider, love.  We’ll have to make our decisions quickly, however,” he gestured to the ship that was growing in size as it approached.  He didn’t need his spyglass to know that the flag flapping in the wind from the highest mast was a bright yellow crocus on a field of purple and dark green. “We’ve finally caught the attention of Arendelle patrols.  If all goes well we’ll be at Queen Elsa’s castle in two days.  I’ll leave you to command us as you see fit.”

 

Emma was seemingly torn between wanting him to stay and preparing her crew for what was to come.  He gave her an encouraging smile as he stepped aside, one already tinged with the hope that she truly wanted him to be by her side for whatever was to come.  She gave him a small smile in return before turning to face the prow of the ship and take her place at the helm.

 

“Ease the sails and prepare to drop anchor!  Keep your weapons stowed and be ready to be boarded.  We’re not looking for a fight this time.”

 

Killian let his smile widen and winked, “We’ll save that for later, Swan.”

 

He reveled in the blush that stained her cheeks before joining the crew as they moved across the deck.  As he helped Grumpy and Sleepy wrestle with one of the sails he could feel her gaze on his back.  Emma might not have made her decision but he had.  He couldn’t justify leaving to protect his heart, not when she was the one who was keeping it whole.

 

With a laugh he reveled in the burn in his shoulder, protesting at his vigorous movements.  He felt alive and with the prospect of what could come in Arendelle he felt his spirits lift.  Emma would win back her kingdom and he would win her heart as she had already done with his, with no tricks and no lies between them.  Of those outcomes he was certain.


	12. Touch of Magic

“Do you even know what the letter said?”

 

“No, he just gave it to me and said that no one but Queen Elsa could read it.”

 

“Lot of bloody good it’ll do us if we just end up locked in her prison instead of enjoying warm, comfy beds in the guest quarters.”

 

“You know she’d never do that without allowing us an audience first, especially since Swan had a letter with Liam’s seal on it.  Which I am a bit hurt you didn’t tell me you had that in your possession, love.”

 

Killian gave Emma a mock pout, mostly to cover the real hurt he felt that Liam hadn’t trusted him with the letter.  They were waiting with Thompson, Red, and Pinocchio in a study for Elsa to arrive.  The rest of the crew had remained on the Brooke under the watch of Arendelle soldiers.  Emma had been reluctant to leave them behind but had no choice, the captain of the ship that had intercepted them hadn’t given her one.

 

As Killian had predicted it had taken them two days to reach the fjord that abutted Elsa’s castle.  Emma had reluctantly ceded control of the Brooke to sailors that had boarded from the patrol ship but not before she’d had a chance to speak with their captain, a man by the name of Andersen.  When he had finally agreed she had shown him the letter, Killian had seen Liam’s seal as Andersen inspected it, and demanded to be brought before Queen Elsa.  Andersen had agreed easily enough but his mistrust of them was apparent.

 

When they had arrived only hours before he had ordered them all to be cuffed in irons and not released until they reached the castle.  Killian had thought some of the guards had recognized him but either they couldn’t do anything about it or they thought he really had killed his father and was under arrest.  Either way it was looking grim for him.  His only hope was that Liam’s letter explained everything they hadn’t had a chance to and that Elsa would grant them asylum.

 

“Liam said that they’d probably only listen to the captain and I thought he’d given you one too,” Emma said with a shrug. “He was right, obviously, Andersen didn’t seem too pleased to have to give in to my demands in the first place.”

 

“I don’t think anyone would be pleased to give in to demands from the captain of a ship they’ve just boarded,” Thompson pointed out. “It’s a good thing the Brooke’s reputation is non-existent this far north.”

 

“That’s all well and good but none of it is going to matter if Queen Elsa doesn’t agree to help us.  We have nowhere else to go,” Red said worriedly.  “Granny won’t be able to contact us and I have no idea where she meant to set up camp, if she even meant to stay in one place long enough to do so.”

 

“There’s no need to panic yet, Red,” Pinocchio said placatingly. “Queen Elsa has agreed to meet with us.  That has to mean something.”

 

The sound of a door opening broke off their musings.  Killian was closest and didn’t have time to turn around before a pair of arms were encircling him and all he could see was the top of a head covered in copper colored hair with a noticeable white streak in the twisted locks.  Princess Anna was in her forties but she was as excitable as someone in their teens.  She was one of the few royals Killian truly enjoyed being around.

 

“Oh, Killian, we were so worried about you!” Anna pulled back slightly to look up at him. “Liam sent us a letter months ago that you were on your way but then you never came and we heard about Blackbeard and thought the worst.  Well, Elsa thought the worst, I knew you’d be okay but we’re so glad you’re finally here!”

 

“Anna let him breathe,” Elsa’s bemused voice sounded from behind him.

 

Anna released him with a final squeeze and he turned to properly greet Elsa.  She was a beautiful woman, with hair so blonde he couldn’t be sure if it was white naturally or if her age was starting to show.  It had only been little under a year since he’d seen her last but there were fine lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before.  As he bowed he heard Anna whispering greetings to the others.  When he straightened Elsa was smiling but he could see the concern in her crystal blue eyes.  She had ruled her kingdom for nearly thirty years without any kind of confrontation and he had brought more than his fair share with him.

 

“Your Majesty, your Highness, thank you for agreeing to meet with us and allow us to anchor in your harbor.  May I introduce Red, Pinocchio, and Emma Swan of the Tarina Brooke.  I believe you already know Thompson,” Killian said indicating each person as he introduced them.

 

“Hello Thompson and welcome all of you.  We’ve been expecting you, have a seat and we can discuss what needs to happen now,” Elsa said as she moved towards a circular table taking a seat in the chair draped with the kingdom’s colors.

 

As everyone else took their seats Killian tried to catch Emma’s eye.  He wasn’t sure if she wanted her true identity known or what her decision had been regarding her magic.  She wasn’t giving him any indication either way and he finally gave up as he sat on Elsa’s left, directly across from Emma.

 

“Liam’s letter arrived not long after we received the news of King Brennan’s death,” Elsa began.

 

“We’re so sorry Killian,” Anna broke in from Elsa’s other side, leaning around her to address him. “We know what it’s like to lose your parents but it must be so much harder being accused of doing it.  I didn’t believe it for a second, none of us did.  It just didn’t seem like something you’re capable of.”

 

“Thank you, Anna,” Killian said somewhat uncomfortable, still trying to come to terms with his father’s death. He focused on his folded hands before him, “Your sympathies are appreciated as is any assistance you are willing to offer.  I know my presence here brings complications that you do not need-”

 

“Killian, stop,” Elsa interrupted kindly. “I am well aware what allowing you to be here under my protection will mean.  Liam explained it all in his letter.”

 

“I’m sorry, which letter?” Emma asked confused looking at Red and Pinocchio who were on either side of her. “Obviously not the one we brought with us because you seem really calm about harboring a fugitive and some pirates.”

 

“Oh, you’re pirates?!” Anna exclaimed excitedly. “Do you make people walk the plank?  Where are your eye patches?  Well, I guess you wouldn’t need them since you all have both your eyes.”

 

“All Liam’s letter said was that you were innocent and needed our help to keep you safe,” Elsa said talking over Anna’s babbling.  It was something they did without thought and took time getting used to focusing on one sister over the other. “He must have sent it from Agrabah because it was sewn into the backing of a beautiful rug that came as a gift.”

 

“We had to decipher the note that came along with it to figure out that there was a second letter.  It was all very cryptic but the rug is really pretty.  The girls thought it was a magic carpet for how much time we spent looking over it,” Anna piped up.

 

“I’ve had the guards in the castle well prepared for your arrival.  Every one of them has been interviewed and inspected to ensure that they have no provocation for exposing that you’re here.  Unfortunately that also means that you cannot leave the castle.  For your own safety of course,” Elsa said apologetically.

 

“I understand,” Killian said with a sigh.

 

“What was the point of the letter Liam gave me then?” Emma asked

 

“It gave you immediate access to me of course,” Elsa answered. “It wasn’t the content of the letter that was important but the seal upon it.  My guards, soldiers, and the ships on patrol were given explicit instruction to immediately bring me any person who possessed such a letter, something else Liam had thought of ahead of time.  There was actually nothing written inside but a simple word of thanks for helping Killian and his kingdom during this messy time.”

 

“So Andersen was just being an ass by putting us in irons when we got here?” Thompson said with a scowl, knocking Killian’s elbow as he rubbed his wrists melodramatically.

 

“He did what?” Anna asked indignantly. “I’m going to have a word with him.”

 

“As will I Anna but first we need to make sure our guests questions are answered first and that they’re seen to their quarters while they stay with us,” Elsa smiled at them.

 

Killian watched amused as Emma, Pinocchio, and Red witnessed the unique rule that Arendelle was under.  Elsa had never taken a husband, or even a lover, and Anna was the heir presumptive with her children next in line for the crown after her.  Their close relationship meant that Anna had nearly as much influence over the ruling of the kingdom as Elsa, although Elsa had the final say.

 

“Did, um, did Liam’s letter say anything about me, Your Majesty?” Emma asked hesitantly.

 

“You can call me Elsa,” she said kindly. “No, his letter only mentioned that Killian would be arriving with trusted sailors.  Is there something more I should know aside from the surprising knowledge that he trusts pirates?”

 

Emma’s eyes darted to his and he gave her an encouraging nod.  She gave him one in return, eyes wide, and he understood what she wanted immediately.

 

“Your Majesty, your Highness,” he said formally. “May I introduce Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

 

Elsa rocked back in her seat slightly, eyes widening while Anna propelled forward in hers a wide grin splitting her face.  Their reactions couldn’t have been more different but Killian knew they were both surprised and curious.

 

“Princess Emma,” Elsa breathed quietly. “I should have known.  You look like your parents.”

 

“You knew them?” Emma asked, her voice awed.

 

“Of course we did!  We’ve met you too, a long time ago at your coronation ceremony, but you probably don’t remember us,” Anna stopped talking, looking thoughtful. “Well, you were just a baby then so you wouldn’t remember us if you tried.  That was the first time I’d seen David in years though.  He looked so much better because he cut his hair, not that he looked bad before, but also because he was so happy to have you and your mom.  Kristoff was happy to see him too!”

 

“Wait, wait, you know about my dad?” Emma said in disbelief.

 

“Well, yeah,” Anna said slowly. “Are we not supposed to?”

 

“Nobody does.  I think only a handful of people do and even they’ve gotten used to calling him James.”

 

“Oh, I knew him way before that and Kristoff knew him even before me.  I’m really sorry I didn’t know it was a secret,” Anna said worriedly.

 

“No, no it’s okay,” Emma assured her. “It’s just a lot to take in that you knew my parents and me and apparently who my dad really is all at once.”

 

“Wait, I’m confused,” Thompson broke in looking between Emma and Anna. “Who’s David?”

 

Killian was just as mystified and he could see that Pinocchio was as well.  Red, on the other hand, was smirking to herself as she watched it all unfold.

 

“My dad.”

 

“Her father.”

 

Emma and Anna had answered at the same time.

 

“Prince James isn’t your father?” Pinocchio asked bewildered.

 

“No, he’s my dad’s twin brother and-”

 

“Your mother had an affair!  Or she mistook David for James or she was tricked but either way you came along nine months later!” Thompson said quickly, eager to figure it out.

 

“What? No!  Have you been reading those stupid books the ladies of the court always passed around to each other?” Emma rolled her eyes and Red chuckled in response. “My dad and James were twins.  James was raised by my grandfather, King George, as the heir to his kingdom, some deal with the Dark One, but he died.  My dad took his place and had to become James in order to fool a lot of people because of deals made and treaties and a bunch of other political stuff.  It was easier for my parents to keep up the charade I guess.”

 

“It’s all very complicated,” Red offered with a shrug. “I’m not even sure I know the whole story and I was there for some of it.”

 

“All family trees are complicated when it comes to royalty Red,” Killian said smiling. “Luckily, ours is fairly straightforward.  By allowing us to wed whomever we want instead of for diplomatic purposes we’ve managed to avoid some very awkward family ties.”

 

“Wait, is your dad even a prince?” Pinocchio seemed to struggle with the information.

 

“Not exactly,” Emma said slowly. “He was a shepherd but when he became one when he married my mom.”

 

“A shepherd?” Thompson sat back in his seat amazed. “He must be the luckiest shepherd in all the realms.”

 

“As entertaining as this is I believe there are more important things that need to be discussed,” Elsa broke in with a serious countenance. “King Brennan’s death, Killian being framed for it, Emma coming here and announcing who she is after years of hiding, there is something that’s been set in motion isn’t there?”

 

“We’re not certain but it seems that way.  It started when the Queen went to our father with a threat to have Liam and I capture Captain Swan.  This was only weeks after I had last been here.”

 

Over the course of a couple of hours Killian explained all that had happened in the previous nine months.  Every once in awhile Emma or Red would interrupt to clarify things or add their parts of the story and Thompson would interject with colorful commentary but mostly it was Killian that talked.  He told Elsa and Anna everything except for his feelings for Emma and that she possessed magic.

 

By the time he finished talking he could see that it was late in the afternoon.  He was sure that Elsa had no pressing matters to attend to, she would have cleared her schedule once word reached her that he’d finally arrived.  There was, however, the rest of the crew of the Brooke waiting to find out what was happening and they hadn’t eaten much aside from the small spread of fruits and cheeses that a servant had brought in while he had been talking.  They also hadn’t had a chance to clean up in any way and he was sure after months at sea they were were hardly fit for company.

 

“What you’ve told me has me deeply concerned.  It appears that Regina not only has a personal vendetta against Emma but a larger plan that relies on getting her removed from the playing field,” Elsa said mostly to herself as she tapped her fingers on the table in thought. “We’ll have to discuss this further but it can wait until tomorrow.”

 

“I agree, your Majesty, in the meantime the crew of the Brooke needs to be informed on how we will proceed and I know I don’t speak only for myself when I ask that we be allowed to wash and rest a little before supper is served,” Killian said with a small chagrined smile.

 

“Oh, of course,” Elsa said somewhat surprised.  She addressed Emma, “We’ve arranged for your crew to have lodgings at one of the inns near the docks but they are welcome to stay here in the castle if you’d prefer.”

 

“The inn will be fine, your Majesty,” Emma assured her. “Red can go and let them know.”

 

“I’ll go with her!” Anna said enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to see a pirate ship.”

 

“It’s like any other ship, really,” Red said smiling as she stood. “Just a bit more, colorful, than what you might be used to.”

 

“Perfect!” Anna said as she stood.

 

“Anna, let Soren know we’re ready to show our guests to their quarters,” Elsa turned to Emma. “We’re honored to have you with us for as long as needed your Highness.  You won’t need to worry about Regina while you’re here.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Emma said gratefully. “But please just call me Emma.  I haven’t been a princess for a long time.”

 

“Just because you haven’t lived as one doesn’t mean you stopped being one,” Anna said gently. “You’ll see.”

 

Anna gave Emma a smile before linking her arm through Red’s and leading her out of the study.  Not long after a steward entered the room and informed them that he would lead them to their chambers.  Killian saw Emma hesitate to stand when Pinocchio and Thompson did.  He guessed at her hesitance and hoped that he was right.

 

“You go ahead Thompson,” Killian said with a nod. “I have just a few more things to discuss with Elsa and Swan here.”

 

“Emma?” Pinocchio asked hesitantly.

 

“It’s okay, Pinocchio,” she replied. “I’ll see you at supper.”

 

Pinocchio looked at her closely and then his eyes darted to Killian as a small frown formed.  Thompson was already gone and with one last glance at Emma Pinocchio followed, closing the door behind him.  A charged but easy silence fell over the study as Killian waited for Emma to take the lead.  He could see her struggling to open herself up, to trusting an almost complete stranger.  Elsa waited calmly somewhat able to sense that any kind of push would do no good.

 

“Jones said you have magic,” Emma blurted out suddenly.

 

“Jones?” Elsa said confused, looking at Killian with her eyebrows raised.

 

“That’s, er, the alias I’ve been sailing under,” he said scratching behind his ear before gesturing at Emma. “Swan here seems to find it easier to call me that than by my real name.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma apologized, dropping her eyes. “I’m just used to calling him that.”

 

“No need to apologize, love,” Killian rapped his knuckles on the table to grab her attention. “You can address me however you like or perhaps undress me should you so choose.”

 

Emma blushed furiously as he grinned at her.  Elsa cleared her throat gently.

 

“It’s true that I have magic,” Elsa said carefully but without mistrust. She peered closely at Emma, “Were you born with it or cursed?”

 

“How?” Emma’s eyes were as wide as saucers, the red drained from her cheeks leaving her pale. “How did you know?”

 

“I didn’t but Killian wouldn’t have told you that I did unless he thought it could help you in some way.  You also seemed to be at war with yourself, a feeling I know quite well.”

 

Elsa frowned, not at either of them, but at some memory that had resurfaced.  Killian had never heard the full account of what had happened in Elsa’s youth regarding her magic but he knew it hadn’t been easy.  She shook her head and looked at Emma with an open smile.

 

“So, born or cursed?”

 

“Are those the only options?  I was born with it,” Emma shrugged. “I was learning to control it with the Blue Fairy but I didn’t get very far before Regina attacked.”

 

“Learning to control it,” Elsa held out her hand and a small flurry of snowflakes appeared above her palm. “But not how to use it.”

 

With that she pushed both of her hands forward.  An icy blast of air pushed Killian back into his seat as the small flurry seemed to turn into a minor blizzard that covered the surface of the table.  As he watched a miniature landscape made of ice formed before his eyes, one that he had seen from the deck of the Brooke earlier that day.  No detail seemed to be spared, tiles on roofs, leaves on trees, even miniscule icy soldiers guarded the gates to the perfectly recreated castle.  He blinked furiously when he thought one of them moved and nearly jumped out of his seat when he realized it had, because it did it again.

 

His eyes quickly sought Emma and he was further amazed by the look on her face.  She had tears pooling in her eyes as they darted across the icy topography before her.  Her mouth was hanging open slightly in awe, the corners lifting as she caught sight of some new detail.  With a gasp her eyes flew up to his in joy, a beaming smile aimed at him as she pointed giddily to the frosty replica of the Tarina Brooke sailing into the frozen fjord before them.

 

Hesitantly she reached out to touch the tiny mast as it came to a stop, her brow furrowing and her lips forming a tight line.  Slowly the colors of the ship changed from the opaque blues and whites of ice to the blues and yellows of the Brooke’s hull that pulsed gently with an ethereal glow.  It only lasted for a moment, a few seconds at most, but he could see the determination that was stoked as Emma curled her fingers into a fist.

 

“Teach me how,” she demanded, eyes blazing, as she looked up at Elsa.

 

“I don’t know if I can,” Elsa said apologetically. “At least not what I’ve shown you.  My magic consists wholly of the creation or manipulation of ice and snow.  With that little bit you’ve just shown me I can already tell that yours is not rooted in the same magics.”

 

“Oh,” Emma said deflated.  She touched the Brooke again, dancing her fingers from stem to stern, avoiding both his and Elsa’s gaze. “I’m sorry I just thought, actually Killian thought, that you’d be able to help me.  We don’t really have another plan for going against Regina.”

 

Killian’s thoughts were reeling as he watched Emma from across the table.  Her use of his name for the first time in weeks and the vulnerability in her voice had him wanting to rush to her side, gather her up in his arms, and reassure her that they would find another way.  At the same time he wanted to rail at Elsa that a place to rest their heads was well and good but they needed more than warm smiles and reassurances to beat the Queen.

 

He turned to Elsa to say as much but saw she wasn’t looking at him.  She seemed to have seen him move because she held her hand up towards him, indicating that he should wait.  Puzzled he followed her gaze and for a second time he nearly jumped out of his seat at what he saw before him.

 

Emma was lightly caressing the miniature Brooke’s sails, still an icy blue but the rest of the landscape had changed dramatically.  The hills and trees were seemingly alive in lush greens and woodsy browns, the frozen water of the fjord had somewhat melted and was lapping gently at the shore but somehow not spilling to the floor as water should, tiny lights flickered from windows as though candles had been lit within them.  She hadn’t altered the entirety of Elsa’s creation but what she had was just as breathtakingly beautiful and it appeared that she had no idea what she’d done.

 

“Emma,” Elsa said quietly.  She was smiling but even if Killian hadn’t seen it, it was apparent in her voice.

 

Emma looked up at Elsa and gave a puzzled look at her smile.  Elsa nodded down at the table and Emma gasped when she saw what she had done.

 

“I might not be able to teach you what I can do but I’ll certainly help to expand and hone what you’re already more than capable of.” Elsa waved her hand over the table and everything disappeared in a flurry of snowflakes.  Everything but the Brooke. “For you, a promise that I’m on your side, even if I prove to be a terrible teacher.”   
  


Carefully picking up the Brooke Emma brought it before her eyes, nearly crossing them as she brought it close to her nose.  Killian shook his head at the image of her doing just that when she was younger, perhaps with a cygnet cradled gently in her hands.

 

“It won’t melt?”

 

“Not unless I wish it to and I don’t foresee having a reason to do so.  I cannot guarantee that it won’t break, though.  The ice is strong but not indestructible, think of it as extremely cold glass.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma said it quietly but vehemently, darting a glance at him before locking eyes with Elsa. “When can we start?”

 

Elsa let out a tinkling laugh, one that reminded Killian of ice covered branches knocking into each other at the height of winter.

 

“Do you mind if we wait until tomorrow?  I’m sure you want to freshen up and we’re most likely going to be late for supper as it is.”

 

“Oh, right,” Emma blushed, leaving Killian wondering why she was suddenly so easily rattled. “Yeah, it’d be nice to wash the salt water off my face.”

 

“Soren will be happy to take you to your quarters,” Elsa said with a nod to the closed doors. “I would have placed you in the same wing as Killian had I known you were, well, who you are.  That’s not to say the rooms you’ll be staying in are lacking in any sense but we have much finer accommodations available if you’re unsatisfied.”

 

“I’m pretty sure if you’d put me in the servant’s quarters it would still be way more luxurious than what I’ve gotten used to over the years.  As long as the mattresses aren’t stuffed with moldy straw or crawling with bugs I’ll be more than fine,” Emma shrugged and stood, stretching as she did.

 

“I can attest to the quality of the beds here, Swan,” Killian said, trying to keep his eyes firmly on her face as a sliver of skin appeared at her waist as she brought her hands above her head. “You’ll find yourself a bit reluctant to remove yourself from it come morning.”

 

“Perfect,” she said dropping her arms and moving towards the door.  She smiled at him over her shoulder “Let’s go, I’m sure Red is back by now and Pinocchio is dying to know what we’ve been talking about.”

 

He made to stand and follow her out but stopped when he felt the pressure of Elsa’s hand on his arm.

 

“If you wouldn’t mind I’d like to keep Killian for a bit longer,” Elsa said, squeezing her hand gently and making him instantly wary of what she wanted to speak to him about.

 

“Sure… I mean you don’t need my permission or anything,” Emma said dismissively but a hint of red colored her cheeks.

 

“It would also be in your best interest and mine to keep your lessons in magic between us for now.  We can’t expect it to remain a secret for long and I know you trust your crew but I’d like us to be well on our way before it becomes known to everyone.”

 

“Oh,” Emma dropped her eyes to the floor and then back up to Elsa warily. “If you think that’s best.”

 

“I do,” Elsa confirmed.

 

“Yeah, okay then.”

 

Emma looked at him, as though she also wanted a private word with him.  Instead she shook her head.

 

“Soren should be waiting for you,” Elsa informed her. “He’ll also let you know when supper is ready but don’t feel as though you have to rush to be there.  It will just be the seven of us along with Anna’s husband tonight.”

 

“Right, I guess I’ll see you in a bit.”

 

“You can count on it, love,” Killian assured her, watching her pause at the door before opening it and slipping out.

 

“Killian, what have you gotten yourself into?” Elsa sighed next to him.

 

He looked over at her and saw her watching him with weary amusement.  Blushing he scratched behind his ear.  She had always been eerily good at reading people, a skill she’d had to hone quickly when she was younger or so she’d told him once.  It could have also been that he hadn’t been masking his feelings as well as he had hoped.

 

“Nothing more than trying to stage a coup and help a princess gain back the kingdom that was cruelly wrenched from her parent’s hands.  There’s also the matter of clearing my name of the heinous crime I most decidedly did not commit and hoping that my own kingdom will believe the truth when it is presented to them.  I’ve had quite the year since we last saw each other, love,” Killian groaned as he sat back in his chair, dropping his head to gaze at the ceiling far above his head.

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about but I’ll let it slide,” Elsa said wryly. “I have something for you.”

 

Looking over at her he saw her pull a letter from a pocket and immediately sat up.  It could have only been from one person and a sudden wave of homesickness threatened to overwhelm him.

 

She handed it to him and stood gracefully, “It came only a few days ago, Liam must have known about the time that you’d be arriving.  You’ll be staying in the rooms you’ve had during your past visits.  I’ll take my leave and let you read the letter in peace.”

 

Killian waited until she had closed the door behind her before breaking the seal that was as familiar to him as his own.  He scanned it quickly and ascertained that Liam hadn’t encrypted it in any way.  Concluding that it must have arrived enclosed in another letter addressed to Elsa he returned to the beginning and began to read.

 

_ Little brother, _

 

_ I’m hoping this finds you well and in one piece.  I’ve not heard from Elsa but I can only hope that she received my warnings and your arrival was expected.  I find I must also ask your forgiveness for giving Captain Swan the letter meant to get you an audience with Elsa.  I know you must have felt hurt that I didn’t seem to trust you with something that important but I had my reasons.  One being that any patrol would have only listened to the captain and if you were smart you would have been acting as a part of the crew.  For another I needed to give Swan another reason to trust us both and by putting that responsibility in her hands I hope it served its purpose. _

 

_ Father’s funeral was hard to bear without you.  The council had agreed to hold off on the ceremony until I returned but they had already interred his body long before I arrived.  I had to say my goodbyes to a portrait.  My grief has been painful, I can only imagine what yours has been without getting any true sense of closure. _

 

_ The council also decided that my coronation could not be postponed any longer than it already had.  I’m sure that if you’ve made port at any time you would have heard about it and if not let me assure you it was nothing how I imagined it would be.  It was a somber affair, hastily cobbled together and performed as soon as they deemed my time of grief to be over.  If I’d had any say in the matter I would have waited until your name was cleared and you could be here, as you should be. _

 

_ I could continue to write about how the council sees fit to sway me or how they present me with ridiculous ideas that they insist are for the kingdom’s and my benefit.  I’d be done with the lot of them but that would insult too many nobles that we need on our side.  Not to mention rouse suspicions as to where my true intentions for the future of our kingdom lie. _

 

_ Which brings me to the true reason I risked writing this.  The Queen has started to make her moves, just as we suspected she might.  She was at Father’s funeral and my coronation, and though she was invited it was a shock to see her at both ceremonies.  Before your mind starts weaving tales of worry I only spoke to her briefly, a few words at most, and Turner was by my side the entire time.  I doubt she would have tried to make a move in such a public setting considering how circumspect she was with Father’s murder. _

 

_ My main concern is the man she’s sent as an envoy.  Even the dimmest of courtiers seem to know he’s a spy.  He’s given us the name Caleb but I am more than certain it’s a false one and Turner, along the men and women of the war council, agree.  I fear that, for now, his motives and what he is reporting back to the Queen are our main concerns.  Which means after this letter I cannot risk sending you another until this man slips and we can take action against him without alerting the Queen. _

 

_ If this is what it means to be King, brother, I’m quite certain I would rather be on the run with you. _

 

_ Be well and we shall meet again on calm seas and under a clear sky. _

 

_ Liam _

 

Setting down the letter Killian ran a shaky hand through his hair.  Anna and Elsa’s heartfelt condolences, Liam’s letter, the realization that he truly hadn’t grieved for his father hit him all at once.  He was grateful that Elsa had left as the tears ran unchecked down his cheeks.  For a moment he entertained the idea of truly running, leaving it all behind and fully embracing the life of a pirate to exact revenge for all the pain the Queen had caused not only him but those around him.  Then he remembered the quick looks Emma had given him, the small traces of confidence she had in what they had planned, and knew that the only way to succeed was to continue on the course they had already set.

 

Wiping the tears from his face he grabbed the letter and placed it in the pocket of his waistcoat.  Composed he left the study, scowling at the guards posted along the way to his rooms.  Despite his resolve to stay he was still in a darker mood than he'd been in when Elsa and Emma were displaying their magic. It was to be expected that Liam had to be cautious and keep communication to a minimum but Killian felt at a loss all the same.  He had no one to talk at length with about anything that had happened, someone he could unburden his mind to without fear of spilling one secret or another let alone his true feelings for Emma.

 

Entering his rooms he allowed himself to relax, if only for a moment.  They were just as he remembered them: a warm, welcoming sitting room that led to a sumptuous and comfortable bed chamber.  He was delighted to see a steaming basin of water with a couple of rags waiting for him along with the trunk he’d last seen at the foot of his bunk on the Brooke.  All he had were the flashy pirate togs he’d settled on wearing but he wasn’t about to complain about a clean set of clothes and hot fresh water to wipe away weeks of sweat and sea spray.  The luxury of a full bath would have to wait.

 

The evening meal was enjoyable and relaxed in a way that Killian had hoped it would be.  Anna’s husband, Kristoff, regaled them with tales of rock trolls and hazardous blizzards often alluding to their daughters and a reindeer that seemed more friend than animal.  Emma and Red shared their own stories, mainly of the places they’d sailed and wonders they’d seen, much to Anna and Elsa’s delight.  For his part Killian listened, pushing his worries about Liam and his own miseries to the side amongst the laughter over the course of the meal.

 

As the evening wore on and the wine flowed he felt himself become more and more separate from the group, his laughter forced and his smile a poor imitation of a real one.  He noticed Emma looking curiously at him throughout the meal, almost as often as she looked at Elsa almost meekly.  Not long after the dessert was served he made his excuses and left the dining room not quite giving a damn that half of the others hadn’t even finished eating.  It was better that they thought him rude than upset and restless.

 

When he got back to his rooms he pulled out Liam’s letter and read it again.  Then he read it for a third time, pacing in front of the unlit fireplace of the sitting room.  It took several passes before the cold hearth for him to realize that what he was feeling was helplessness.  He could no more help Liam with his troubles with the Queen than he could help Emma with her magical abilities.  His shoulder was still stiff from disuse and ached for hours after any strenuous movements.  At the moment he was nothing more than a liability and it was becoming clear that he truly wasn’t needed.

 

A firm set of knocks on his door roused him from the dark thoughts that had consumed him.  He was unable to utter a response when the door opened and Emma let herself into the room.

 

“Was I rude?” She blurted out before she even shut the door.

 

“Uh, is this a conversation we were in the middle of because I find I’m at a loss as to what you’re referring to, Swan,” he said confused.  He watched as she dropped into a chair and looked up at him expectantly. “Come in, have a seat, why yes Elsa has been very accommodating.”

 

“Thanks,” she intoned, rolling her eyes at him.  Glancing around the room she huffed. “Your room is nicer than mine.  I don’t even have a fireplace.”

 

“Elsa offered you a better room, love, I’m sure she can still arrange that for you,” Killian said as he sat in the chair next to her.

 

“No, my room is pretty great actually and I already feel like I’m asking too much,” her voice softened and she bit her lip. “Do you think Elsa thinks I’m rude?”

 

“Is that what had you barging in here without an invitation? And here thought you couldn't bear to be parted from me,” he smirked and was rewarded with a bored glare. “Did it ever occur to you that I could have been sleeping?”

 

“From how you were acting at dinner I knew you wouldn’t be,” she shrugged and looked away from his gaping stare. “You can tell me what happened after I left you and Elsa or not but I do need to know something.”

 

“What?” He choked out, amazed that she had read him so well.

 

“Am I even remotely like a princess anymore?  I was so demanding with Elsa and her magic and I don’t have half the manners that seem to come naturally to you.  Even Thompson seemed to have a better handle on palace decorum and I’ve seen him eat,” she glanced up at him briefly before staring blankly in front of her. “This is the first time I’ve stepped foot in a castle, let alone have to remember all my lessons in etiquette, in ten years.  If I can’t pull it together for one person how the hell am I supposed to do it for an entire kingdom?”

 

“You don’t,” he said bluntly.  Emma’s eyes snapped to his and he shrugged in response. “Elsa gave me a letter from Liam.  Things have already started to slip out of his control but he’s doing what he can.  I want to be there to help, to do anything really, but not because my kingdom needs me or because it’s the right thing to do.  I just want to be at my brother’s side to do what I can to help him and seek justice for our father’s death but I can’t.  Helping you, defeating the Queen, it’s what I can do and I’m dedicated to doing just that.

 

“Tell me, do you want to defeat the Queen to get back your kingdom or to get back your life?”

 

“I-”

 

Emma paused and considered the question.  Killian sat back, letting her come to her own conclusions.  His restlessness had dissipated, leaving behind exhaustion in its wake.  It had been an eventful day, one that was sure to be repeated in the weeks to come.

 

“I can’t go back to the life I had.  The lessons, the suitors, the elaborate balls, it’s not who I am anymore,” Emma said slowly, sadly.  He looked at her and was surprised to see her looking back at him with fierce determination. “I don’t want that life but I want my life back.  I’m tired of running, tired of hiding, I want to see my parents and I want to be happy.  I want to be me again.”

 

“Then you will.  It won’t be a proper princess that does it but you, the magical pirate princess with an affinity for speaking her mind,” he said not quite joking.

 

“You think I can?” She asked staring at him with an unsure gaze.

 

“I’ve yet to see you fail,” he answered vehemently.

 

It felt like a confession of the depths of his feelings and he waited with bated breath for her rejection.  Instead of immediately dismissing his statement she gave him a small smile, one that he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of.

 

“You are helping your brother, you know.  Not directly but I’m sure he knows you’re doing everything you can,” she gave him another puzzling smile and stood. “It’s getting late and I want to be ready for tomorrow.”

 

“Despite Elsa’s reservations I think she’ll be able to teach you much about your magic,” Killian said as he stood to join her.

 

“I think so too,” she said quietly looking up at him, excitement glittering in her eyes. “Do you think she knows how to poof away?”

 

“Poof?” He asked, shaking his head a little at the ridiculous word tripping off his tongue.

 

“You know,” she waved her hands in front of her wildly. “Disappear in a cloud of smoke and appear somewhere else almost immediately.  I’ve only seen Regina do it but my mom told me that the Dark One does it too.  Maybe it’s just a dark magic thing.”

 

“Perhaps, but I’m not the one to ask,” he said smiling, glad for the lightening in mood. “If you do learn how to ‘poof’, as you say, I’d like to be the first to get a demonstration.”

 

“If I do learn consider no place safe, sailor,” she said winking suggestively.

 

“I won’t be caught unawares I’ll have you know,” he said in a low voice, leaning into her space.  He grinned as he heard her breathing hitch. “I might even go so far as to say I won’t be taking my eyes off of you.”

 

“I would despair if you did,” she breathed, unconsciously mimicking his pattern of speech as she tilted her chin up slightly, swaying towards him.

 

His eyes darted down to her lips.  She was overwhelming his senses, his judgment, and he berated himself for letting it get that far.  He didn’t know what it would mean to her if they kissed but it meant too much to him.  It wouldn’t be fair for either of them to give into the temptation and where it would ultimately lead with differing expectations on what would happen after.

 

“You should get some rest, love,” he said quietly as he stepped back. “You’ve a big day tomorrow.”

 

He thought he saw a flash of something more than disappointment in her eyes but dismissed it.  Most likely it was irritation that he’d put a halt on their advances.  It couldn’t have been have been the same longing that he felt deep in his bones.  The longing to be hers completely, body and soul.

 

“Yeah, I should,” she said matching his tone. “Night, Jones.”

 

Killian gave her a pained half smile, “Goodnight, Swan.”

 

Emma’s smile in return was small but genuine.  She walked to the door but paused before opening it.

 

“I want to thank you, Killian,” she said, turning to look at him with what he could only think of as warm affection. “For helping me and for reminding me of who I am, who I’m meant to be.”

 

“You’re welcome, Emma” he said taken aback by her heartfelt honesty.

 

With a nod and another warm smile she left.  Killian stood staring at the door longer than he cared to admit.  The discord he’d felt since receiving Liam’s letter had vanished leaving him full of confusion and wonder at what had just transpired.  The weeks to come would allot him the time to discover exactly where Emma wanted him to be in her life.  He retired to his bed chamber smiling to himself.

 

~*~

 

_ Once she made sure the owner of the heart in her hands had gone unseen she released him and returned the glowing organ to the wooden chest that she had been keeping it in. _

 

_ “So, the princess is learning to fight back,” she said half to herself. “Good, I wouldn’t want things to be unfair once we’re face to face.” _

 

_ She patted the lid, one could almost say lovingly, if she was inclined to such sentiments.  The insight her puppet would provide was now invaluable instead of the drivel she’d been witness to so far. _

 

_ “Huntsman,” she purred. _

 

_ “Yes, your Majesty?” He asked as he stepped out of the shadows. _

 

_ “It’s time we find that dagger.  We may need the Dark One firmly on our side when the time comes.” _

 

_ The Huntsman bowed and she smiled.  Perhaps a little unfairness was warranted when dealing with the one fated to be The Savior.  It couldn’t hurt, at least it wouldn’t for her. _


	13. Truth's Embrace

The library in Elsa’s castle was one that Killian had found no equal to in all his travels.  Anna had explained to him once that when they had been younger it had been their only refuge and escape.  She hadn’t elaborated but had told him that they had been adding to it consistently since Elsa’s coronation.  It was now housed in its own wing of the castle, one made entirely from ice, and while it was beautiful winter clothes were required for spending more than a few minutes amongst the stacks.  To actually sit and read a selected book meant returning to the old library which had been transformed into a rather large, but comfortable, reading room.

 

In the month since they’d arrived in Arendelle Killian had found himself spending much of his time either amidst the leather bound books in the library or by one of the many low burning fires in the reading room.  Aside from sparring with Thompson to build the strength back up in his left arm and shoulder there wasn’t much else for him to do with his time.  He was confined to the castle and its grounds and though it was an expansive, sprawling estate he still felt as he had during his confinement on the Brooke, like a caged animal.

 

It didn’t help that the others had occupations to keep them busy during the daylight hours.  Able to come and go as they pleased Red and Pinocchio frequently went down to the docks to visit the other members of the Brooke’s crew or to explore the new shores they found themselves on.  Thompson had attempted to stay by his side but after a few days they had both agreed that it did nothing but fray both their nerves.  Instead Thompson spent his days with Kristoff, a friendship that had been formed during Killian’s previous envoys to Arendelle, or scouting the town hoping to catch wind of news from Balliolshire or Misthaven that might help them.

 

As for Emma, she was hard at work with Elsa honing her magic and also, surprisingly, learning all she could about what had been happening in Misthaven during her ten year absence.  Killian had run across her a few times, sometimes with Elsa though most times alone, amongst the stacks in the library always with a book in her hands concerning one aspect of her kingdom or another.  She never mentioned how her other lessons were going but always after he’d seen her he would return to his spot in the reading room and find some kind of token waiting for him, a diamond like replica of the Jewel or an intricate wooden puzzle that held no sign of having been touched by a knife.  He didn’t know how but he could always tell that she had created them with her magic.

 

One of the side tables in his quarters was decorated with the little gifts, which was a risk seeing as how only he and Elsa knew that Emma was practicing her magic.  He couldn’t bear to hide them away and it helped that he had few visitors to his chambers to notice the table growing more and more crowded as the days went by.  The only one he hadn’t placed on the table was what appeared to be thin silver and gold bands twined together to form a lattice of metal shaped into a ring that fit perfectly around the base of his thumb.  He had tried it on his left hand when he had found it perched in the saucer of his teacup one day and hadn’t removed it since.  Emma’s small but pleased smile when she saw him wearing it ensured that it would remain there until the end of his days.

 

He was lost in thought spinning the ring around his finger in the reading room when Anna found him.

 

“This must be so hard for you,” she said as she dropped down into the chair across from him.

 

“What is?” He asked, grateful for the distraction.

 

“When I was stuck in the castle and the grounds I thought I would go crazy.  I mean, I kinda did since I had no one to really talk to and then almost married the first guy I ever met but I didn’t know any better.  You’ve been out in the world, seen so many wonderful things and now you’re just as stuck as I was and not even in your own home.  I’d be miserable.  Are you miserable?” She asked peering at him closely.

 

“Not miserable as such,” he sighed, knowing it was useless to lie.  Anna had a knack of wheedling the truth out of someone with pure doggedness. “There’s plenty to keep me occupied and you and your sister have been excellent hosts.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Anna said smiling widely, deepening the creases around her eyes, before suddenly turning serious again. “You’re not happy though.”

 

“I’m not unhappy,” he hedged.

 

“Fine, since you don’t want to talk about how bored and antsy you are let’s talk about something else.”

 

Anna tapped her chin thoughtfully, her lips pursed as she seemingly came up with and then rejected topics.  Killian smiled knowing she would most likely ask about his fight with Blackbeard or for him to describe the markets of Agrabah.  When he saw her eyes dance with suppressed mirth and her lips curl with a wicked grin he began to worry.

 

“How long have you been in love with Emma?”

 

Killian gaped as his ideas of what he was going to tell her became useless.  He had been expecting to weave her a tale of excitement and wonder, not bare his soul to her.  She watched him with amusement as he scrambled to come up with any kind of deflection.

 

“What would make you think something so ridiculous, Anna?” He scoffed nervously.

 

“Good grief, Killian, I’ve known you most of your life and you flirted with my girls long before you even knew how to do it right.  Not to mention I saw you not long after whatever happened your final year at the Academy.  I knew it was something to do with a girl the moment you stepped foot in the castle.  Heartbreak does that to a person,” she said with a shrug and a sympathetic smile.

 

“Aye, it does,” he looked down at the ring on his finger and then back up to her bright blue eyes. “Who else believes it?”

 

“Elsa for sure, Kristoff asked me about it a few days ago, and I’m pretty sure Red and Pinocchio are taking bets from everyone for when you finally spill your guts,” she eyed him speculatively. “Or haul her into your arms and kiss her senseless.”

 

“So, everyone then?” He huffed, annoyed at them and himself.

 

“I’m not sure about Thompson but yeah, pretty much everyone,” she chirped happily. “Except for Emma.  She’s more stubborn than you are apparently.”

 

“Thompson’s had his suspicions for weeks now,” Killian said resignedly, choosing to ignore Anna’s comment about Emma and the swoop in his stomach that accompanied it. “Hell, even Liam with his thick head thought something was going on between us.”

 

“Well, I’m happy for you Killian,” Anna said cheerfully.

 

“I never said any kind of confirmation,” Killian ground out, still feeling petulant.

 

“And you didn’t deny it either,” she shot back triumphantly.

 

“You’re a bloody trickster,” Killian grumbled. “It’s a wonder I wasn’t somehow lured into a marriage with Erika or Sonja.”

 

Anna glared at him, folding her arms over her chest, “No offence but my girls wouldn’t have married you even if I thought it would have been a good match.  You’re too attached to the sea and they’re too stuck in the mountains.  And I’m not some kind of harpy or siren or whatever thing you sailors are worried about stealing your senses away.”

 

“That you’re not, though I had my suspicions when I was younger.  Couldn’t figure out for the life of me why Kristoff would leave the freedom of the mountains and settle in the castle like he had.”

 

“And now?” She asked carefully.

 

Killian sat back, slowly breathing out as he considered her question.  It was true that when he had visited in his youth he had wondered why Anna’s husband had abandoned the wild adventures of the Arendelle mountains for the stuffy, confining life at the castle.  At the time he’d only really heard Erika and Sonja’s excited chatterings of their dad’s supposed exploits and Kristoff’s own exaggerated tales of his youth.  He had doubted the truth of his being raised by rock trolls but Killian had been left with the distinct impression that Kristoff had been tamed by the ball of energy that was Princess Anna.

 

It had taken him nearly twenty years but he thought he finally understood.  Kristoff hadn’t been tamed, or coerced, or bewitched as his young mind had led him to believe.  He had merely fallen in love.  Killian had felt a shadow of it with Jacqueline, no matter how one sided it had been.  He knew, beyond a doubt, that he would follow Emma wherever she would lead him.  Whether it be on the road to war to reclaim her kingdom or on board the Brooke for the rest of his days living as a pirate he would be by her side.  Even if she felt nothing of what he felt for her.

 

“Now I might have an idea of what had possessed him,” Killian said with a tight smile. He let it relax and leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s quite hard to resist the pull of a strong willed woman.”

 

“And don’t you forget it,” Anna said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “You know, I came to find you for a reason?”

 

“You mean you had other intentions than interrupting my quiet day with an inquiry into my state of mind?  I almost believed you had nothing better to do with your time,” he teased.

 

“Today I don’t,” she said with a wink. “But Elsa wanted me to tell you to meet her and Emma in the study that we used when you first arrived.  She wouldn’t tell me why and I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other but she said it was important and she’d tell me later.  Do you know what’s going on?”

 

“I’m afraid I might,” Killian said regretfully.  He knew how harmful keeping secrets could be, he was reluctantly well versed in it. “It’s not my tale to tell but I can assure you that Elsa will tell you everything when she deems it prudent.”

 

“I know, I trust her.  It’s just been a long time since we’ve kept something from each other, that’s all,” Anna sighed.

 

Killian noticed suddenly that she looked older.  He had seen her every day since their arrival and it had just struck him that the lines around her mouth were deeper, the wide white streak in her hair now accompanied by silver strands twisted in the locks.  She had aged and he’d only come to see it at that moment.

 

“Anna, is there something else going on?  What’s been happening beyond the gates?” He asked once again seething at his confinement.

 

“It’s just rumors,” she said delicately, wringing her hands. “But we’ve been hearing things, not only from our own sailors returning to Arendelle but from other kingdoms and even travellers coming from the north.  Which is odd because they never have much to tell us other than how much snow they’ve seen compared to years before.  Or that Marshmallow is scaring villagers again, which he wouldn’t be a problem if they just left him alone-”

 

“Breathe, Anna,” Killian interrupted, knowing she’d ramble longer and faster if only to keep from telling him the truth right away. He waited as she sucked in a breath and looked at him apologetically. “Now, what are these rumors?”

 

“Regina is looking for the Dark One’s Dagger.  She’s raided villages all across Misthaven, some more than once if he’d made deals there before.  His castle is believed to be under her control now too.  Most of the items there she can’t access, the Dark One protected them well apparently, but it’s only a matter of time before she finds some way to access them,” Anna said it all in a rush, as though the quicker she said it the less harsh the news would be.

 

“But the Dark One?” He asked, alarm creeping through his system.

 

“Still in his prison, we had our scouts find out personally but if Regina gets ahold of the Dagger then it won’t matter.  He’ll do whatever she commands him to,” Anna’s voice shook slightly.

 

“Only if she finds the Dagger,” Killian grabbed her hands, which had almost become a blur from her movements. “We’ll just need to make sure we dispose of her before she does.”

 

“Right, right,” she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

“Elsa’s aware of this?” He asked letting her go seeing that she was somewhat calmer.

 

“Of course she is,” she scoffed, looking at him like he had grown a second head. “How else would our scouts know what to- oh, I see.  Distract me all you want but I’m still going to worry about it.”

 

“I’m not telling you to stop but perhaps take a deep breath once in awhile?”

 

Her reply was cut off as she looked distractedly over her shoulder.  He turned to look for himself expecting a guard or steward walking toward them.  Instead an overly large snowflake was floating gently towards them.  As it neared he reached out a hand to touch it.

 

“No, don’t!”

 

Anna’s yell startled him and he rocked back in his chair from the force that he yanked back his arm.  The snowflake floated past him serenely, landing on Anna’s outstretched palm.  The moment it settled it transformed into what appeared to be an icy piece of parchment.

 

“Elsa’s waiting for you,” Anna said sheepishly looking up at him. “According to her I can wait to tell you about Sonja’s engagement.”

 

“Sonja’s engaged?” He said surprised and still curious about the icy message that was quickly melting to nothing in Anna’s hand.

 

“A very nice young man from the Southern Isles,” she said shaking the water from her hands. “Ironic, I know, but his family was integral in overthrowing the old monarchy and Elsa’s had numerous people look into his background.  You know what? It’s not important, especially if Elsa’s sending snowflakes to get you to that study.”

 

“Is that what that was?  What would have happened if I touched it?”

 

“It would have melted,” she said standing and motioning for him to do the same. “Elsa can explain it when you get to the study.  Now go, before she sends a snowball instead.”

 

Killian almost laughed but then realized she was serious.  She waved him towards the door, a mixed look of consternation and amusement on her face.

 

Walking down the corridors he tried to read the faces of those he passed, wondering if he could see worry in the set of their mouths or fear in the set of their eyes but he saw nothing.  Either the palace staff had no idea what was happening outside the gates, like he had, or they didn’t think it affected their lives in the slightest.  He wasn’t sure which one made him more concerned.

 

When he reached the study he was surprised to find that there were no guards standing at the door.  There weren’t even any posted at either end of the corridor that led to there.  It struck Killian as odd that Elsa wouldn’t have protection in place but then again she was more than capable of protecting herself.  With a shake of his head he knocked on the door, another question added to the list of them he’d created since Anna had found him.

 

“Come in,” Elsa’s voice sounded through the wood.

 

He entered, not quite knowing to expect and was almost disappointed to not find furniture flying about the room or the air humming with power.  Instead the room was thick with tension as Elsa and Emma sat at the table facing each other but pointedly looking elsewhere.  Elsa gave him a tight smile and beckoned him to join them.

 

“I believe my presence was requested or have I inadvertently walked into a hostile negotiation?” Killian asked as he sat between the two women, an empty seat separating him from each of them.

 

Emma snorted in amusement but quickly schooled her face into a mask of annoyed disinterest.  Elsa shook her head at him but let her smile linger.

 

“You’re late,” she admonished.

 

“Ah, yes, Anna and I were having a rather serious conversation,” Killian chanced a look at Emma but she was resolutely looking out the window.

 

“About how Sonja’s fallen in love with someone rather unexpected?”

 

He whipped his head back at the tone Elsa used.  She was watching him knowingly, with an understanding air.  The back of his neck heated up and he fought against the urge to drop his gaze and scratch behind his ear.  Anna had been right, everyone could easily see what he felt for Emma.

 

“Aye,” he said with a small nod and a shrug, the closest he would come to fully admitting how he felt. “Among other things.  Such as Regina’s search for the Dark One’s Dagger.”

 

Elsa flinched and Emma finally let her eyes rest on him, full of guilt.  He felt his anger rise but quelled it.  It would do no good to start a shouting match when there was nothing he could do under lock and key as he was.

 

“We weren’t keeping it from you, Jones,” Emma said carefully.

 

“And yet you weren’t forthright with me either,” he shot back.  Taking in a deep breath he continued. “I feel impotent enough as it is, Swan.  You could at least have had the courtesy of informing me of what we might face when we return to Misthaven.  Unless you’ve also resolved to leave me behind with only your good intentions as solace.”

 

Emma recoiled as though his harsh words had been a physical blow.  He vaguely wondered if leaving him in Arendelle had crossed her mind.  The nauseous feeling that settled in his stomach like a rock and her reaction to his words made him feel as though it had.

 

“Jones,” she moved to reach out to him but then sat back looking troubled.

 

“Apologies, Swan,” he said feeling anything but sorry. “I’ve been going a bit stir crazy and my temper is getting the better of me.”

 

“Killian?” Elsa called for his attention in a firm, almost brusque, voice.

 

Killian looked over and the fight drained out of him completely.  Much as he had noticed earlier with Anna he saw the many years of Elsa’s life settled on her features.  Most of all he could see all her experience and knowledge peering out at him through her crystalline blue eyes, so much like her sister’s and yet, somehow, holding more pain than any of them had endured.

 

“You weren’t told because I was only informed two days ago and I let Emma know during our session yesterday.  It’s part of the reason why you’re here now.  I was going to tell you everything and we were going to decide how to move forward.”

 

Elsa hadn’t scolded him with her words but her tone did it just the same.  He dropped his eyes to the table before him thoroughly chastised.

 

“Forgive me,” he said with full sincerity, addressing both women. “Hearing the news from Anna had me jumping to the wrong conclusions.  I spoke rashly and I’m sorry.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Elsa said. “Do you have anything you want to know or did Anna tell you everything?”

 

“She told me that the Queen is looking everywhere for that dagger and that the Dark One’s castle is under her control.  He may not have hidden it there, especially if he knew that would be the first place someone would look but she’ll find it somehow.  Her resources may not be limitless but they’re close enough to it for it to be worrisome.”

 

Killian paused, wondering if he should address Emma’s progress with her magic.  It was the one true advantage they would have over the Queen.  Even if Emma’s magic wasn’t as fine tuned as the Queen’s he had seen the raw power she held.  They also had a small element of surprise on their side.  The Queen was aware that Emma had some magic but she had no idea that Emma had been under Elsa’s tutelage.  There was nothing for it, he’d have to bring it up one way or another if they wanted to have a serious conversation about what to do regarding the Dark One’s Dagger.

 

“I know it’s only been a month but you’ve been training nearly every day,” he said to Emma and was shocked to see a scowl starting to form. “I thought perhaps some progress was being made.  That we could start strategizing with the use of your magic in mind.”

 

“Progress was being made, a lot actually, and suddenly we’ve reached an impasse,” Emma practically spat out glaring at Elsa who gazed back at her nonplussed.

 

“I can’t teach her anymore than I already have until-”

 

“Not can’t, won’t,” Emma broke in heatedly. “You’ve said that there’s ‘so much more that I’m capable of’ but apparently I’m not worth teaching it to.”

 

“You are capable of more, of such great things Emma, but you are holding yourself back.  I cannot teach you anything more until you’ve fully embraced every part of your magic and every part of yourself,” Elsa said sternly and somewhat sadly. “I know what Blue told you, that you need to separate yourself from your emotions when using your magic but that is what’s holding you back.  You need to feel everything to be able to do anything!”

 

Standing up abruptly Elsa turned and arched her arms over her head, a flurry of snowflakes following in their wake.  Bending her knees she twisted her hands as she brought them down in front of her, coalescing the snow and ice into a solid form that grew as she slowly straightened.  To Killian it appeared as if she was building a snowman and as Elsa stood at her full height he saw that in a way she had.  As the flurries died down he realized that it was a frozen soldier in full uniform with a sword in hand that stood at attention as soon as Elsa’s hands stilled.

 

Elsa only paused for a moment before she clapped her hands together sharply and then spread her arms apart as wide as she could.  In another flurry of snow the soldier multiplied into a squad of eight identical brethren lined up before the door Killian had entered through.  Elsa clapped and spread her arms again and when the icy cloud settled he was looking at a platoon of twenty, all perfectly aligned and awaiting orders.  Then staring pointedly at Emma she held out an open palm and clenched it into a tight fist.  The soldiers disappeared in an snowy plume, not even a melting snowflake left behind.

 

“Why should I worry about learning more when you can conjure up an army?” Emma groused.

 

“That is not the point Emma,” Elsa snapped.  Killian could sense her patience was waning. “Yes, I can create an army but I cannot be there to control it.  I have my own kingdom to protect and if Regina gets her hands on that dagger we’ll be vulnerable enough as it is.  Your kingdom’s fate is in your hands and you need to accept that once and for all.”

 

“You think I don’t know that thousands of people are depending on me?  That my parents are counting on me?  I’ve heard the stories, the rumors, that I’ll come and rescue them all.  That’s not what I’m trying to do.  I’m just trying to get my life back into my own hands.  I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want it!”

 

Emma slammed her hands down on the table as she stood to face Elsa.  Immediately the table split into two down the middle.  Killian pushed his chair back, scraping it noisily against the floor as he avoided the heavy wood crashing down to the floor.  There was no sound as Emma stared down at what she had done.

 

“That is what I mean, Emma,” Elsa said gently.  She walked over to Emma and took her shaking hands into her own.

 

“Blue warned me that this would happen,” Emma said unsteadily, her eyes wide and terrified as her gaze darted from the broken table to Elsa and then to him and back again. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.  I can’t let my emotions direct my magic.  I can’t.”

 

Killian’s heart broke at the desperation in Emma’s voice.  He didn’t know the laws of magic or where the power came from but he wanted to take away her fear.  At the same time he wanted to rail at Elsa for pushing her to her breaking point, for not using calm patience to allow Emma to reach her potential on her own terms.

 

“Emma, look at me,” Elsa said, still in a soothing gentle voice. “Blue may know a great deal about magic and how it works far better than I ever could even with a lifetime of study but she’s also a fairy.  She’s not human and she doesn’t understand that emotions, real deep human emotions are what drive us.  We can separate ourselves from them no better than we can cut out our own hearts and still live.

 

“By trying to seal everything you’re feeling behind a wall that is what will make your magic dangerous and unpredictable.  Regina’s magic is fueled by revenge, anger, and hatred.  She has kept everything else locked away but if you embrace it all, let it work with you instead of pushing against it you will win.  Emma you can defeat her but you have to be open to it all.  The pain and sorrow and fear, the joy and happiness and contentment, and most importantly the love.”

 

He had been studiously looking at the table to give them some modicum of privacy and gave a small start at the end of Elsa’s statement.  Looking up quickly at Emma he found she was already watching him.  Her lips quivered in an attempt at a smile but her eyes remained contemplative and wary.

 

Emma pulled her hands from Elsa’s and placed them on the upturned edges of the table.  She looked at him one more time, a steadier smile gracing her lips before focusing on the wood before her.  A white glow emanated from her palms as the two halves lifted themselves up from the floor and fitted themselves back together again.  A bright streak of light ran down it’s length where it had split.  By the time Killian blinked away the after image the table was once again whole, not a single grain of wood out of place.

 

“Elsa, do you mind?” Emma asked looking between him and the table with an indecipherable look.

 

“Of course not, I have some things to talk with Soren about.  I’m proud of you Emma.”

 

With that Elsa swept from the room an enigmatic smile gracing her lips.  Killian watched the door close behind her only mildly confused.  He believed that Emma had done what Elsa had been asking of her.  She had opened up her mind and heart to whatever it was she was keeping locked away and her magic had responded immediately.  What he didn’t fully understand was why he hadn’t been dismissed when their argument had reached its peak or why he suddenly felt as though the air was slowly being sucked from the room.

 

“You’re wearing the ring,” she said quietly, settling her gaze on him.

 

He glanced down and realized he was spinning it with his right hand.  It seemed he’d picked up a new nervous habit.

 

“Aye, it’s a thing of beauty Swan.  Did you make it?” He asked as he pulled it off to inspect it closer.

 

“You know I did,” she answered.

 

“Why?” He stood as he asked but kept his distance from her.

 

“I was practicing,” Emma shrugged but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

 

“No, love, why did you make this for me or any of the other gifts?  You could have easily given all those little trinkets to Red or Pinocchio.  Why me?”

 

Killian slipped the ring back onto this thumb with slow and purposeful movements.  She was watching him and he thought he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders once the ring was secure on his finger again.  He began to feel the tendrils of hope snaking through him.

 

“They don’t know that I’m working on my magic.  You know that.”

 

She was avoiding answering his question directly.  He was having none of it.

 

“I think that’s only part of the reason.  So I’ll ask again, why make all those baubles, this ring, for me?”

  
  


He half expected her to huff in annoyance and ignore his question completely.  She took him by surprise when she stepped closer to him and looked at him unblinkingly with her wide green eyes.

 

“I guess I’m still trying to thank you.  You’ve done so much for me and I know that you kind of didn’t have a choice but you haven’t complained about it once.  It’s because of you we’re here at all, that we’re even alive!  I’ve had to look out for myself for such a long time I forgot what it was like to have others have my back.”

 

“You have Red and Pinocchio,” he said, trying to lessen the heat in his cheeks. “Your whole crew has your back, Swan.  There’s no need to thank me any more than you do them.  We’ll gladly be by your side.”

 

“You still don’t get it,” she said with a rueful smile shaking her head.

 

Stepping closer she placed her hands gently on his chest and looked up at him.  His breath stuttered in his chest as his thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind.

 

“Get what?” he sounded out of breath and his cheeks heated up further.

 

“This.”

 

His thoughts ground to a complete halt when Emma lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his gently.  The second his mind engaged she dropped back on her heels.  He could feel the fleeting ghost of her soft lips, the way she’d sighed quietly into him, and all he could think was it wasn’t enough.

 

“If that’s your thanks, love, allow me to say you’re welcome.”

 

Killian didn’t give her a chance to answer him back.  Dipping his head he brought his mouth back to hers, pulling her into him with a hand at the small of her back and the other at the base of her neck, fingers tangling in her blonde locks.  Emma’s hands slid up from his chest, one wrapping around his shoulders while the other buried itself in his own hair causing a shudder to run down his back and gooseflesh to erupt on his arms.

 

He’d kissed plenty of women, some older and some younger, each with their own experiences and pasts influencing their movements with him.  None of them came close to what he’d shared with Jacqueline even though he knew it had been a lie.  Kissing Emma was leagues beyond anything he’d ever foolishly believed he’d experienced for himself.  It was as if she could transport him to another realm with nothing more than an idle thought and the soft slide of her lips.

 

With a small sigh of his own he pulled back, but not too far.  Resting his forehead on hers and dropping his hands to her hips he was pleased to feel her rocking towards him again, slightly out of breath.  Killian opened his eyes, not quite sure when he closed them, and saw that Emma’s were open as well.  Open and full of unbridled joy.

 

“That was-,” she breathed.

 

“The start of something, perhaps?” Killian asked quietly, leaning back to carefully gauge her response.

 

A shy smile graced her lips as she blinked up at him.  He couldn’t help but trace the shape of her face with his fingers, cupping her face gently as his thumb caressed her cheekbone.

 

“Not the start,” Emma answered just as quietly, leaning into his touch. “I’m pretty sure we started down this road a long time ago.”

 

“That we did, Swan,” he said trying and failing to hold back a giddy grin. “I do believe we’ve just made some of our comrades a bit richer.”

 

“Red’s promised she’d split her winnings with me,” Emma said proudly, eyes glittering in amusement and her arms tightening slightly around his shoulders. “Especially when I told her that I might have feelings for you.”

 

“And when was that, love?”

 

Killian was curious.  He’d known how he’d felt for her for what felt like ages.  To think that she had been concealing her feelings as well had his head spinning.

 

“After I healed you,” she said with a hitch in her breath.

 

Her right hand moved to his left shoulder where he knew she would feel the raised scar under his shirt.  The left dropped to his right side where there was no scar but she unerringly found where Blackbeard’s blade had pierced his side.  He had woken many nights sweating and clutching at the wound that left no mark but feeling her warm hand gently tracing over it with her fingers he felt as though she was brushing away the lingering remnants of pain.

 

“Quite a while then,” he said with a chuckle, remembering that night clearly and how he’d felt much the same. “It’s a pity though.”

 

“What is?” Emma asked warily.

 

“If only either one of us had said something then you wouldn’t have been so far behind in your magical studies,” he gave her a stern look that was immediately ruined by the grin he gave her. “I would have been more than happy to help you open yourself up to your emotions, Swan.  Among other things.”

 

She pinched his side and he stepped back laughing.  He wasn’t ready to admit that he loved her and Emma was most likely unwilling to hear such sentiments but he felt a giddy freedom in knowing that he wasn’t alone in feeling more for the person standing in front of him.  A pleased flush was staining her cheeks and she was shaking her head at him and he had never felt happier.

 

“What makes you think you’re the reason my magic suddenly decided to start working?  Maybe I really like that table and felt bad for breaking it?” She teased.

 

“Then perhaps I should leave the room and allow you to apologize to the table properly,” he said, grinning widely at their playfulness. “I’m quite sure Elsa would be happy to gift it to you since you’ve become so attached.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“As long as you’ll still have me, Swan, I’ll wear the title proudly.”

 

Emma laughed and he was thrilled to see pink staining her cheeks once again.  He stepped forward to pull her to him again when a knock sounded at the door.

 

“Yeah?” Emma called out tremulously, her laughter still evident in her voice.

 

Elsa entered without further prompting.  Killian was smiling but felt it drop to a frown when he noticed the quick pace she was approaching them and the worried look on her face.

 

“What’s happened?” He asked briskly stepping slightly ahead of Emma as if he could lessen the brunt of whatever Elsa had come to tell them.

 

“Do you know someone named Hewitt?” Elsa asked instead of answering him.

 

“Aye, she’s supposed to be back in Balliolshire with Liam and his secret war council,” Killian said slowly.

 

“She’s here,” Elsa stated looking even more worried. “She insists that we meet.”

 

“Where is she?” Killian peered at the door as if Hewitt would step through at any moment.

 

“At an inn down near the docks.  Not the one your crew is staying in Emma but one that has a bit of a rougher reputation.  She would only agree to meeting us there,” Elsa started wringing her hands. “Soren said she looked jumpy, after she practically dislocated his shoulder pulling him into an alley to relay her message.  She didn’t tell him much but she wants all of us to be there.  You especially Emma.”

 

Emma gave Killian a confused shrug.  As far as he knew she hadn’t met Hewitt, even when they could have crossed paths in Tuiscint.  It made sense for her to want to meet with him and Elsa, Hewitt had accompanied him on a few of his previous visits to Arendelle as both sailor and bodyguard.  Whatever she wanted to talk about Killian had a feeling it was closely tied to whatever plans the Queen had in place for Liam and ultimately Emma too.

 

“Then let us be on our way.  Did you see Thompson roaming about?” Killian started pacing as darker and darker thoughts invaded his mind as to why Hewitt had suddenly arrived.

 

“No but I can let him know to join us,” Elsa twisted her wrist and a large snowflake appeared in her palm.  With a light breath of air upon it she blew it away and Killian watched as it quickly slid under the door.

 

“Is that-”

 

“Yes, it will only approach if he’s with people we trust and let him alone read the message,” Elsa answered his unfinished question. “It’s how I was able to let Liam know you’d arrived without tipping off Regina’s spies.”

 

“Amazing bit of magic,” he said distractedly, ready to storm down to the inn. “Shall we go?”

 

“Not yet,” Emma said quickly. “You need a disguise first.”

 

“There’s no time to hunt down a cloak or paint my cheeks with a bit of soot.  It sounds as though Hewitt fears for her life,” he tried to keep his impatience in check but wasn’t all that successful.

 

“We don’t need to,” Emma said calmly.  She placed her hands gently on his upper arms. “This is faster.”

 

Killian looked at her questioningly when suddenly he was surrounded by a white glow.  When it faded he was looking at a giddy Emma and a smugly proud Elsa.  He glanced down and found that he was wearing a uniform similar to Elsa’s guards.  The colors were a touch off, a bit brighter, and the he could tell the cut of it was tailored to his measurements perfectly instead of an approximation but the casual observer wouldn’t notice.  As he glanced down to see if she’d altered his boots he was surprised by a lock of fine light brown hair that fell into his eyes.

 

“What have you done Swan?!” He yelped indignantly as he grasped the hair between his fingers.

 

“Relax, Jones, you’re still you,” she giggled, most likely at the sight of him crossing his eyes to get a better look at what she’d done to him. “At least on the inside.”

 

“I hope you can reverse it,” he grumbled, running his hand through his hair to keep it from falling back in his face and grimacing at the change in texture.

 

“If she can’t then we’ll deal with it later,” Elsa broke in. “We need to go.  Now.”

 

With a begrudging nod he gestured for them to lead the way.  If he was truly to hide in plain sight as a guard he would have to act the part.  Which meant he needed to remain a few steps behind Elsa and Emma.  None of the real guards paid them any attention as they left the castle and once they stepped past the gate their footsteps quickened.

 

They were halfway to the docks when Emma slowed slightly and began walking beside him.

 

“Who’s Hewitt?” She asked quietly though no one was around to overhear them.

 

“Do you remember the day we met?” He chanced a glance at her and saw her flush as she remembered. “Hewitt was the lass that Pinocchio knocked out before you two tied me to a tree.  She may also possibly be Thompson’s sweetheart but you didn’t hear that from me.”

 

“Oh,” she said, the red in her cheeks deepening as she ducked her head to stare at the ground passing beneath their feet. “I guess I should apologize on Pinocchio’s behalf when I see her.”

 

“Too right, bad form that was.  Although you have yet to apologize for rendering me unconscious, Swan.  Twice by my count,” he said as he knocked her elbow with his.

 

“Sorry?” she said, shrugging with a chagrined smile.

 

“No need to make it heartfelt, love,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

 

“Hey,” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. “I am sorry but you understand why, right?”

 

“Of course I do,” he lowered his voice.  They were nearing the docks and the road was growing more crowded. “I would have done the same had our positions been reversed.”

 

“I highly doubt that, Jones,” she said the name with affection, as though it was a nickname she’d bestowed on him instead of an alias.

 

Squeezing his arm gently she quickened her pace to catch up to Elsa.  They were starting to garner attention, he hoped it was because Queen Elsa was amongst her people and not because they were drawing suspicion.

 

He let his face fall into the look of moderate awareness.  It was a look he was all too familiar with from his own guards.  Not that he could blame them, he too would most likely allow himself to relax his vigilance if nothing of consequence happened day in and day out.  Thinking about it the Queen’s guards were the only ones he’d ever seen that held themselves with the tension of someone waiting for a killing blow to be struck at any moment.

 

They walked silently but quickly.  Elsa led the way with her head held high, apparently not seeing a need to be discrete.  Killian realized she intended to bring Hewitt back to the castle under her protection once they found out what she wanted to tell them in the first place.  It would serve as a statement and a warning to any spies that Elsa was willing to stand against the Queen.

 

“Kil, what’s going on?” Thompson’s voice came urgently from behind him.

 

“How’d you know it was me?” Killian asked startled but not turning around and bringing more attention to their group.

 

“You’re hair may be a riot and the guard uniform is a nice touch but I’ve had to look at your face for too many years not to know it when I see it,” Thompson said with exasperation falling in step at his side.

 

“Great, then if anyone from Balliolshire is here I’ll be spotted in a second,” he grimaced, carefully scanning the faces that passed by.

 

“Relax, Jones,” Thompson said placatingly while also watching those around them. “Your disguise is a good one.  Not every one of your subjects has had the unfortunate privilege of seeing you up close.  Now where are we headed and why did I get a message from a snowflake having me leave Red to deal with Kristoff all on her own?”

 

“It’s Hewitt,” Killian said out of the side of his mouth, barely breathing out the name. “She’s here.”

 

“Bloody hell, she didn’t tell me anything in her letters,” Thompson grit out craning his neck as though he could pick her out of the crowd. “Do you know why?”

 

“No, but she’s gone to great lengths to keep her arrival a secret.  Which is probably why she didn’t mention it to you.  We’re headed to the inn she’s told us to meet her at.”

 

Killian nearly knocked Thompson in the back of the head to get him to stop looking around so obviously for Hewitt.  He wondered exactly how he’d missed how attached Thompson had become. Then he realized his own feelings for Emma had probably overshadowed any observations he might have made.

 

“Which inn?” Thompson asked.

 

“That one,” Elsa said pained as she pointed in front of her.

 

Killian followed her outstretched finger and felt the blood drain from his face.  There was a crowd gathered at the front door of the inn.  They weren’t close enough to hear what they were murmuring but he had a good idea.  The look on their faces was of morbid curiosity, the kind that marks the sight of a grisly scene.

 

“No,” Thompson groaned and before Killian could hold him back he was running towards the crowd.

 

Cursing, Killian ran after him.  Thompson had forced his way through the throng of people into the inn.  The indignant complaints and jostling of those he’d plowed through made it harder for Killian to follow in his wake.  Taking the stairs two at a time a hot ball of anxiety settled in his gut.  Killian could hear Thompson arguing loudly with someone on the third floor and then silence.

 

When he finally made it to the landing he saw a portly man standing just outside one of the rooms.  The man had his head bowed, hands worrying the grey knit cap in his hands.  Slowly Killian made his way down the hall short of breath, not only from his sprint up the stairs.  He could hear muffled pleading and knew what was waiting for him to see in the room.

 

Passing by the man without acknowledging him Killian steeled himself as he stepped into the doorway.  Even if he’d had ten years it wouldn’t have been enough time to have prepared him for the sight of Thompson on the floor of the room sobbing into Hewitt’s body that he’d gathered in his arms.

 

Killian could barely make sense of what he was seeing, the room was in shambles either from the fight Hewitt had put up or from her attacker ransacking the place after he’d killed her.  He couldn’t seem to be able to focus on anything aside from the bodies on the floor.  One alive, the other dead.

 

Shuddering he found he could barely breathe, his vision blurring as he fought to get oxygen in his lungs and the sound of Thompson’s grief deafening him.  It was only when he felt a hand gripping his arm, turning him back towards the hallway and it’s partner wiping frantically at his cheeks that he realized he was crying.  He focused on the crushing pressure on his arm and the sound of Emma’s voice trying to reach him.

 

“Killian?  Killian, please talk to me!”

 

He could feel the tears tracking down his cheeks despite Emma’s attempts to dash them away and gazed sadly into her frantic green eyes.  Elsa was behind her, a delicate hand covering her mouth with tears magnifying her horror at the sight in the room.  Thompson seemed unaware that they had joined him, his pain all consuming as he howled in pain.

 

“It’s not safe for us here anymore, love.” Killian’s voice broke twice and he took in a shuddering breath. “Nowhere is.”


	14. Left Adrift

“What was her name?”

 

Emma’s voice slipped into his thoughts bringing him back to the reality of the cramped crow’s nest he found himself in.

 

They had been at sea for nearly two weeks.  After the discovery of Hewitt’s body Elsa had agreed that they were no longer safe in Arendelle.  Desperate with grief and heartbreak Killian had led an even more distraught Thompson back to the castle with Emma and Elsa following silently in their wake.  Curious glances and sympathetic whispers preceded them to the gates so by the time they stepped foot in the front hall it appeared as though the entire castle staff already knew what had happened.

 

It ended up suiting their plans perfectly.  The servants and guards averted their eyes as they broke off to mourn in the separate quarters, as well as heeding Elsa’s orders that they not be disturbed.  Barely an hour later they slipped away having paused only long enough to hastily pack what they could carry in a rucksack and for Killian to force Thompson into drinking enough rum to calm him down and numb the pain.

 

Elsa had been the one to show them the passages that led out of the castle.  She assured them that there would be a small ship waiting for them with trusted sailors and that their disappearance would be concealed as long as possible.  Taking the Brooke wasn’t an option for their escape to work.

 

Emma had wanted more time.  She had run across Pinocchio when they had returned to the castle but Red hadn’t returned and wouldn’t have known what had happened.  There had been nothing for it though.  They couldn’t have wasted time waiting for her to return and the larger their group was the harder it would be for them to escape unnoticed.  In the end Elsa had conjured one of her messenger snowflakes and promised Emma that Red would know all she needed to.

 

Despite their rush they had made their way slowly back to the docks.  Elsa had remained in the castle to keep up appearances and to begin an investigation as to why Hewitt had been killed and by whom.  Before Killian had slipped through the final door of the castle she had told him the name of the ship they were to leave on and where it was moored.  She had also informed him that it had been on standby just in case of an emergency and he had been relieved she’d had the foresight to do so.  He left her with a kiss on the cheek in thanks and a promise to keep the other three safe.

 

They had made it to the ship with no problem and without rousing the suspicion of anyone they passed.  Killian had kept vigilant watch as they moved through the streets, as he was sure Emma and Pinocchio did as well, and saw nothing that worried him.  Their ruse had worked and ten minutes after stepping foot on The Istapp they had been sailing out of the protected fjord of Arendelle and back onto the open seas.

 

A small part of Killian had been happy to be under the blue sky, feeling the wind rush across his face, after weeks of confinement but it was rightly overshadowed by the sharp pain of losing Hewitt and witnessing Thompson slide into the depths of depression.

 

The first week he had barely left Thompson’s side, listening when he was willing to talk or just being there when he wasn’t.  Going into the second week had been better but not by much.  Killian only felt comfortable leaving Thompson when he had passed out from exhaustion and only for a few minutes at that.  His excursion into the crow’s nest was the first time he had finally allowed himself a chance to mourn Hewitt.

 

Emma was watching him.  She hadn’t joined him, patiently waiting for his invitation or his request to be alone.  He could tell that she would wait as long as needed even if it meant hanging off the side of the crow’s nest allowing her feet to go numb on the rigging.

 

“Brighid, her name was Brighid,” Killian sighed, not trying to fight the hitch in his words as he slid over to make a space for her at his side.

 

She climbed over the rail with a grace he knew he could never achieve.  There wasn’t much room but she was somehow able to sit without landing in his lap.  They were pressed together from shoulder to ankle yet somehow Killian still felt like she was leagues away.  He ached to curl into her side, to take what comfort she could give, but he stopped himself.

 

“How’s Thompson doing?” She asked quietly, almost whispering.

 

“Thompson is, well, he’s sleeping through the night now and eating when I put food in front of him.  That’s the best I can hope for,” he said with a shrug.  He tilted his head towards her but kept his gaze firmly on the wood slats in front of him. “Lieutenant Brighid Eadoin Hewitt of His Majesties Royal Navy of Balliolshire, that’s how she’ll be remembered if she’s remembered at all.  They won’t know that she joined because she was the fifth child in a family of seven and it was her only hope of providing a life for herself after her parent’s lost their shop.  Did you know she graduated at the top of her class, love?  No, of course you didn’t, how could you?”

 

Without thinking he draped his arm over Emma’s shoulders.  He waited for her to stiffen and pull away.  Instead she leaned into him, dropping her head onto his shoulder with a sigh.  After weeks, months really, of restraining his urge to touch her he was revelling in the feeling of her against him.  Even if the gesture was purely for comfort on her part he adored it all the same.

 

“I didn’t even know,” he continued, “she was handpicked by Liam for our mission.  An honor considering she was only twenty-two at the time.  She loved the color blue, wished she could go to a ball at the castle but hated wearing dresses, wanted to be a Captain in her own right, and I knew none of this.

 

“We had a strict no fraternization policy, no relations between anyone stationed on the same ship.  Of course that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, only a fool would believe that.  I understand why Thompson never told me how close they had gotten, I thought it was just a bit of flirting between them, but I can’t help thinking that if I had known she would still be alive.”

 

“What?  Killian you don’t believe that do you?” Emma asked incredulous turning her head to look at him.

 

He dropped his gaze to the toes of his boots, “What else would you have me believe, Swan?  If I had known the depths of their attachment I would have made sure she was protected.  Thompson may have hidden it from me but I’m sure the Queen’s spies were able to see what I hadn’t.  Hewitt shouldn’t have left the safety of Balliolshire even with the temptation of seeing Thompson again.  She practically painted a target on her back by being close to someone who is close to me.”

 

“I don’t believe that.  Is that what Thompson believes too?  He’s not blaming you is he?” Her voice was sharp with agitation as she pulled away from him.

 

“He doesn’t need to.  It’s my fault they were separated in the first place.”

 

Thompson hadn’t blamed him, not once.  Killian knew though, once the shock of Hewitt’s death wore off Thompson would see the truth: everything that had happened to them was Killian’s fault.  His blind pursuit of Captain Swan and the Tarina Brooke to seek retribution for the humiliation he’d suffered when they’d first met had led them down a treacherous path.  Only now was he seeing the repercussions of his decisions and seeing clearly what lay in wait for all of them if they continued.

 

“Hewitt was the top of her class, which means she was smart,” Emma said in a voice that made her seem like she was talking to herself.  He looked up at her and was surprised by the intensity of her gaze on him. “She impressed Liam enough to be placed on his ship.  I’m sure she was resourceful, patient, and quick witted if Thompson loved her as much as I’m thinking he did.  I may have never met her but from what I can tell she didn’t go to Arendelle for Thompson.  She wasn’t killed to send us a message.  She was killed to keep from giving us one.”

 

Elsa’s words came back to him.  She had told them that Hewitt had desperately wanted to talk to them.  Specifically to Emma, not Thompson and not him but Emma.  Even if she had been sent to speak to Captain Swan, unaware of Emma’s true identity, it was telling enough.  That clue had been washed away in the wave of grief that had possessed him.  He still believed she would be alive if he had known about her and Thompson but no longer thought it was the only reason for her murder.

 

“What could she have known that someone needed to murder her to ensure her silence?  Drastic measures considering we didn’t even know she was in Arendelle,” he drummed his fingers on his knee. “Someone must have seen her, either when she arrived or as she traversed the docks.  It would have been easy to have grabbed her at that moment and then hidden her body but they didn’t.  Whoever killed her wanted us to know that she had something to tell us but had no intention of letting her.”

 

“We were meant to find her like that,” Emma said horrified.  She shifted so her back was against the railing, facing him. “What could she have known?”

 

“She was on Liam’s secret council,” he murmured, voicing his budding theories.  He thought his words had been carried away on the wind but Emma nodded encouragingly for him to keep going. “In his letter he mentioned a man that had been sent by the Queen as an envoy.  He had his suspicions that the man is a spy.”

 

“Another one?” She asked, seemingly annoyed with the prospect.

 

“Or perhaps the same one.  We never did discover who aboard your ship was the spy and they could have easily returned to Misthaven for new orders,” he said thoughtfully. “The Queen is close to no one, I’ve observed that on the few occasions I’ve been a guest in her castle.  It stands to reason that if her spy assured her he was undiscovered and unseen by any of the crew of the Jewel he could easily slip into the role of envoy.”

 

“And then what? He followed her to Arendelle?” Her knee knocked his as she twitched in agitation.

 

“No, the risk of him being recognized by you or your crew would have been too great.  He also would have left Liam unobserved which would have been a greater risk.  Most likely he had a man of his own that he sent along,” Killian furrowed his brow as he began remembering more details from that day. “Her room was ransacked.”

 

“Or made to look like it had been,” Emma said picking up the thread of his thoughts. “I didn’t notice a pack or anything that indicated she had just arrived after weeks at sea.  So, either it was taken or she had hidden it.”

 

“I don’t remember much,” Killian said quietly, a small lump forming in his throat.  His recollection of the room was overshadowed by the memory of Thompson cradling Hewitt in his arms. “But I’d wager her killer didn’t find what he was looking for.  He wouldn’t have had much time to look before he would have had to flee.  Hewitt must have worried that she’d been followed and taken measures to ensure we’d learn the truth in case something happened.”

 

“Elsa’s had people searching for any sign of the killer or what Hewitt might have been doing up until she died,” she blushed when he stared at her in confusion. “She sent a snowflake a few days ago but there wasn’t anything really important to tell so I figured it could wait.”

 

“Can you do that?” He asked suddenly.  Emma jumped, his voice had been rather loud, and he put his hand on her knee, hoping to calm her. “I apologize.  I just meant do you think you can send a message like Elsa can?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said slowly, staring down at his hand.  He removed it quickly and thought he saw her lips dip into a frown momentarily. “I, uh, haven’t really practiced my magic since we left.”

 

“Why not, Swan?  Practice makes perfect after all,” he said with a twirl of his hand.

 

He was relieved when she quietly snorted a laugh.  During their time back at sea he had only seen her a few times and for mere moments at that.  They hadn’t had a chance to discuss what had happened before they found Hewitt.  Their kiss had been the only thing that had kept him from being swallowed by his grief but his guilt, that had nearly consumed him.

 

“I didn’t think it was appropriate,” she said with a shrug. “I’m also sharing quarters with Pinocchio and he still doesn’t know that I had spent all that time in Arendelle working on it.”

 

“Really?” He felt a shot of pleasure that he was still the only one who knew.  He resolutely ignored the continuous jealous pang he felt at hearing she was spending her nights in Pinocchio’s company, no matter how innocent she seemed to deem it. “From what I’ve gathered he’s been your friend since childhood.  I’ve not known Thompson nearly as long but he’s still the first to know my secrets.”

 

“All your secrets?” Emma gave him a disbelieving grin, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Only the ones that are mine to share, love.  He still knows nothing of your magic.”

 

She hummed, whether in approval or not he wasn’t sure.  Killian watched as she cupped her hands in front of her, palms open to the night sky above them.  Slowly a small ball of light emerged, steadily growing in size and brightness.  Once it reached the size of an apple it stopped increasing in size, dimming and brightening with a soothing rhythm.

 

Emma dropped her hands back to her lap.  The sphere bobbed in front of her in sync with the pulsing light.  He could see her clearly in the glow, somewhat tired but with a deep elation as she watched her magic at work before her.  With a quirk of her lip it moved, ever so slowly until it rested before him.  He wondered what she could see of him under its illumination.

 

“We need to figure out what we’re going to do,” she said, sighing heavily. “We can’t keep sailing without a heading and I doubt there’s enough supplies on board to get us to a safe port.  Either we return to Arendelle or…”

 

Killian realized what she was contemplating as she trailed off into silence.  Even with the glow of the sphere he could easily see the stars above him.  He didn’t need a sextant to discern their position.  At the rate and direction they’d been travelling they were far closer to Misthaven’s shores than he was comfortable with.  For Emma it must have felt like torture.

 

“Let’s figure it out tomorrow, yeah?  It’s late and there’s much we need to discuss and having Pinocchio and Thompson there will help us decide what to do,” he said with a false sense of surety, as though the dawn of a new day would hold all the answers.

 

The sphere flared brightly, causing him to squint against its light.  In the moment before it dimmed again he could see clear annoyance coloring Emma’s features.  Once the spots cleared from his vision her face was a calm mask.  She coaxed the sphere back to float above her hands.

 

“If I could get a message to Elsa what should I tell her?”

 

Her voice sounded odd.  As though she was asking a completely different question.  Killian wasn’t entirely sure what it could be but somehow he knew that his answer would need to be the right one.

 

He watched her closely but her face remained impassive.  The only indication that she was agitated were the slight twitches of her fingers, magnified by the sphere glowing above her palms.  Hoping he was making the right move he shifted closer, pressing himself against her once again as he wrapped his hand gently around her wrist.  The sphere flared brightly again.

 

“That we’re safe,” he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her wrist, “that we have yet to decide on a course of action, that we’re aware of the difficulties that face us, and that we’re never giving up.”

 

There was a bright flash, one that had him turning his face away squinting against the intrusion of light.  Emma’s wrist turned in his hand but he didn’t break his hold.  He didn’t turn back, even when the light faded until he heard Emma’s delighted laugh.  Her hand slipped into his as he faced her again.

 

The sphere had transformed.  There, perched in her open palm, was what looked to be a small luminescent sparrow.  It cocked its head to regard him then hopped towards the tips of her fingers.

 

“Anything else?” Emma whispered, as though she was afraid of scaring it off.

 

“Have Elsa’s men look for any loose floorboards in the room Hewitt was found in,” he said in a daze, mesmerized by the lifelike movements of the bird. “If she hid anything it would most likely be there.”

 

Emma closed her eyes briefly, tilting her head down as if she were speaking to the bird but no sound passed her lips.  The little sparrow ruffled its feathers before spreading its bright wings and taking flight.  They watched it circle the crow’s nest once, unaffected by the wind, before it flew off to the north leaving not even stardust in its wake.

 

“Who knows if it’ll actually work,” Emma said ruefully, her fingers tapping out a disjointed rhythm on the inside of his wrist.

 

“I have every belief that it will, love,” he emphasized his statement with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “But if you’re determined to dwell on it may I suggest doing so from the warmth of your bunk?”

 

“Why Jones, how forward of you,” she said batting her eyelashes at him.

 

“What!  No!  I never meant- not that I- that is, bloody hell, lass,” he blew out a frustrated breath as she laughed at him.

 

“Relax, sailor, I knew what you meant,” she said with mirth.  Standing with ease she tugged on his hand and he followed, although with a lot less grace. “But I might just take you up on it one night.”

 

Killian was left in the crow’s nest gaping after her as she descended back to the deck.  Quickly he followed her down.  As he went he grumbled under his breath, annoyed yet oddly pleased all the same.  He knew as soon as his feet hit the deck she would be waiting for a retaliation from him.  With a grin he quickened his descent, knowing exactly how to throw her as off kilter as she had done with him.

 

He dropped down beside her, the wood of the deck solid below his feet after hours of swaying up in the crow’s nest.  Emma was watching him, a playful glint in her eye.  With a genuine smile he offered her his arm, as he would with any lady of the court.  She looked at him with surprise, her eyebrows raised high over wide unblinking eyes.  In response he merely gave her a short bow.  Narrowing her eyes in suspicion she finally slipped her arm into his, curling her hand around his elbow.

 

“Tell me, love,” he said conversationally as he began to lead her around the deck. “Why not a swan?”

 

“What?” She asked confused.

 

They passed by the hatch leading below at a casual pace.  Killian smirked as he watched her look back at it.  When she turned back to look at him he quickly formed his mouth into a gentle smile and looked at the length of deck before them.  Her confusion seemed to grow.

 

“The bird that is currently winging its way to Arendelle,” he said as he seesawed his free hand out in front of them in a lazy flying motion. “I thought you would have chosen your namesake to bear our message.”

 

“Oh, um…”

 

Killian felt her hand twitch on his arm.  Looking down at her he saw her ducking her head away from him.  If they had been awash in daylight instead of moonbeams he was sure he would be able to see that her cheeks were stained pink.

 

“Have I stumbled upon some sordid secret, Swan?” He asked gleefully, thrilled his plan to get her on uneven footing as she had with him had worked.

 

“Of course not,” she huffed trying to pull her arm from his.  He brought his arm tighter into his side and she relented with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not really anything important.”

 

“I think it is to you,” he said quietly, understanding why she was reluctant to share.  He nudged her gently with his elbow. “I’d love to know more about your past.”

 

“My mother,” she started hesitantly, “she doesn’t have magic.  I mean, not like I do, but my father always said that she had some kind of power if she was able to enchant him so fully.  She would roll her eyes every time he said it but she always had this little smile when she did.”

 

They reached the stern and Killian gently guided her across the width of the ship to the port side.  Emma had a small smile of her own as she reminisced.  He was loathe to break the spell she was under keeping their steps even and his head tilted towards her as he listened without comment to her tale.

 

“My parents always knew I had magic or I think they did, the Dark One practically told them I would when my mother was pregnant with me,” she said frowning suddenly.

 

“Told them?  He knows the future?” He asked suddenly worried.  If that power was tied to the Dark One’s Dagger then the Queen would be nigh unstoppable if she got her hands on it.

 

“I’m not sure, Mother never liked to talk about it and Father wouldn’t even allow his name said in his presence,” her frown deepened.  Then she shook her head and a smile reappeared, though not as easily as it had once been. “Is this my story or not?”

 

“Sorry, love, please continue,” he acquiesced, storing the tidbit of information to mull over later.

 

“Anyway, I remember watching my mother coax birds from trees or the sky, sometimes it seemed they came from nowhere at all.  They were always small birds from the forest: bluebirds, cardinals, starlings and sparrows.  She would just hold out her hand and they’d come as if she’d called them.

 

“Mother would laugh when I called it magic but it really was.  She used to send messages with them and if I was sad she somehow get them to fly around my nursery until I smiled.  It was her own kind of magic.”

 

“You miss her.”

 

Killian didn’t need to make it a question.  Her wistful sigh and the almost compulsive way she was gripping his arm was testament to her sorrow.  She hadn’t lost her mother as he had but it was a loss all the same.  With a shudder he realized she had been torn from both her parents in one fell swoop.

 

They had reached the bow of the ship.  Emma, with no guidance from him, continued with their slow promenade.

 

“I haven’t seen her or Father for ten years,” she murmured sadly, “but sometimes it still feels like I just saw them that morning.  Then there are the days where I can’t really remember the sound of her voice or the color of my father’s hair after our daily sparring sessions.  It’s those days that are the toughest.”

 

“When my mother died,” Killian started haltingly as he swallowed around the small lump in his throat.  He had rarely spoken of his mother after her death, even with Liam or his father. “I tried to hold onto pieces of her but it seemed the harder I tried the faster I forgot the exact shade of blue her eyes were or if she preferred one or two spoonfuls of sugar in her tea with breakfast.  Now I only hear her laugh in my dreams and I’m not even sure if it comes close to how she truly sounded.  Unlike me, however, you have hope.  You will see your parents again.”

 

“I will?” Emma asked in a small voice, looking at him as if she wanted desperately to believe what he was saying.

 

“Aye, love, of that I have no doubt.”

 

They made another pass around the perimeter of the deck in companionable silence.  Killian was lost in the memories of his mother and his father, both now gone.  He suspected Emma’s thoughts were similar in vein.

 

Once they reached the hatch leading below again Killian let Emma’s arm go only to open it and guide her down into the semi-darkness below.  He followed, closing the hatch behind him and pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the soft glow of the single lantern left burning.  Emma waited for him patiently and he offered her his arm once more as he led the way to the door of her cabin.

 

“Your quarters, my lady,” he said relinquishing his hold on her and dipping into a second short bow.

 

“What was that, Jones?” Emma asked waving her hand over her head and then in front of her.  Gone was the melancholy, replaced with humoured suspicion.

 

“Well, I wanted to have properly courted you, in a way, before…” Killian let the unfinished statement hang in the air as he stepped closer to her.

 

“Before?” She asked almost breathlessly.

 

Instead of answering right away he dipped his head, meeting her lips with his gently.  She sighed into him, one of her hands sliding across his back as the other softly ran across his jaw, delving into the hair at the back of his neck.  He pulled her in closer with his arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders, his own hand tangling in her soft blonde waves.

 

With reluctance he pulled back before he truly wanted to.  Emma swayed into him, her eyes still closed.  He smiled as he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as he brushed a tendril of hair back from her face.  She opened her eyes and he felt a thrill at the starry eyed gaze she was looking at him with.

 

“You didn’t need to court me for that, sailor,” she said licking her lips as she blinked up at him.

 

“I suppose not, but that’s not what I meant,” he said as he let a smirk unfurl on his lips and stepped back. “When I do find myself sharing your bed I want to have done at least something properly beforehand.  Goodnight Emma.”

 

Killian picked her hand up and dropped a perfunctory, yet gentle, kiss on the back of it.  She was still gaping at him as he turned and headed down the passageway to his quarters.  He only made it a few paces before a choked ‘goodnight’ sounded behind him.  Smiling widely he returned to his cabin, entering quietly with the hope that Thompson was still asleep.

 

“Kil?”

 

He cursed silently, upset that he had disturbed what little rest Thompson might have gotten.

 

“Aye, it’s me.”

 

“What time is it?” Thompson sounded alert and Killian cursed silently again realizing he hadn’t disturbed anything at all.

 

“Late or early, I’m not sure which,” he whispered as he undressed and climbed into his bunk. “Try to get some sleep.  We’re going to discuss what to do tomorrow.”

 

“Done with the mourning now are we?  Wondered when Princess Swan would snap her whip to get you to attention,” Thompson said bitingly.  Killian didn’t need to imagine the sneer that was likely on his face.

 

“Don’t,” Killian warned, sitting ramrod straight and peering into the darkness in the direction of Thompson’s bunk.  He had expected anger but the vitriol in Thompson’s voice was more than he had been prepared for. “Whatever you’re thinking is wrong.  Get some sleep.  We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

 

“Unlikely,” he heard Thompson mumble alongside the rustling of bedclothes.  Suddenly a dark shape loomed above him in the darkness. “I think I’ll go up on deck myself.  Perhaps when I come back I’ll be as unburdened as you seem to be.”

 

“Tommy,” Killian said beseechingly, standing only to be pushed back down.

 

“No, Killian, I’ve been following you on this fucked up journey for almost a year now.  All we’ve reaped from it is exile from our own land, a war we’re unprepared to fight, and death.  Brighid would still be alive if I hadn’t-”

 

Thompson cut himself off abruptly.  He was breathing heavily through his nose.  It was the only sound in the small cabin aside from the constant wash of water along the hull.  Killian remained silent, knowing anything he said would be met with increased anger and accusations.

 

Finally Thompson abruptly bent down, Killian guessed he was wrenching on his boots from the sound of it and then crossed to the door, wrenching it open.  Muted light spilled into the cabin, illuminating the pain etched on Thompson’s face.

 

“When we land, wherever that may be, I’m leaving.  I can’t be a part of this anymore,” Thompson whispered brokenly before closing it behind him.

 

Killian sat looking at the door, willing Thompson to come back, for longer than he cared to admit.  He knew that going after him would only incite him further and thus stayed put.  Finally he gave up, laying down on his side facing the door but sleep remained elusive.  When the first sign of dawn crept through the cabin’s window he sighed and resigned himself to a day of exhaustion and high emotions.

 

When Killian stepped on deck he could feel the bubbling of tension amongst the crew.  Emma was right, they needed to decide where to go and soon.  Elsa’s sailors were trustworthy but their patience wasn’t infinite.  It wouldn’t be long before they had to make port and the chance of their small group being left on the dock was a possibility.

 

Thompson’s words gathered around Killian like a dark cloud, his guilt returning and creating a miasma of painful and tortuous thoughts in his head.  Making his way to the rail he kept an eye out for Thompson.  He was prepared to grant him the leave he was so eager for without argument.

 

The accusations Thompson had hurled at him were true.  Killian hadn’t given Thompson any kind of choice at any point in their journey.  It had been a grievous error on his part to mistake his friend’s loyalty and trust for a belief in his own personal mission.  Another thing for the guilt to feast upon.

 

When the sun was a hand’s width above the horizon Killian headed below deck to the galley.  His head was buzzing with self recrimination and loathing that had only gathered in strength as he’d observed the unchanging seascape.

 

The galley was nearly empty.  Most of the crew had already had their meals.  The few that were left were blinking sleepily over their cleared plates, ready to retire after a long night on duty.  Killian wasn’t hungry.  There was a roiling in his stomach that hadn’t ceased all morning.  Settling for weak tea he sat at the far end of the communal table, away from the others and began musing once more on how everything had turned so quickly on its head.

 

“Is this seat taken?”

 

Killian started at the sound of Emma’s voice.  With another jolt he realized he had dozed off sitting up.  Emma was standing next to him and he looked up at her to see her looking back with a teasing grin.  He shook his head, at his own foolishness and to clear the last cobwebs of sleep, and saw that Pinocchio was already seated across from him.  They were also the only ones in the galley.  He took a sip of his tea to clear his throat, grimacing at how cold it had become.

 

“Consider it yours, love,” he said with a cough.

 

Emma’s smile widened as she climbed over the bench.  She wobbled slightly and he immediately steadied her with a hand at her elbow, wondering at the lack of her usual grace.  He received an answer almost immediately when she placed another mug of tea in front of him.  One that had tendrils of steam curling from its surface.

 

“Late night, sailor?” She teased, hiding her grin behind her own mug.

 

“Aye, far longer than I expected,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face.

 

Killian knew she was hoping for him to tease her in return or slip in a poorly disguised innuendo but his heart wasn’t in it.  He felt worn down and wrung out of all emotion save guilt.  It seemed that he’d be draped in the chains of it for the remainder of his days.

 

“Killian, what’s wrong?”

 

Gone was the lightness in her tone.  He felt rather than saw her concerned gaze boring into the side of his head.

 

“Thompson will be leaving us when we make port,” he said resigned. “Wherever that may be.”

 

“What do you mean he’s leaving?” Pinocchio asked indignantly. “We’re down to the four of us and he’s just going to walk away?  Where’s he going to go?  Can we trust that he’ll keep quiet about everything?”   
  


“Pinocchio!” Emma gasped. “What the hell?”

 

“The woman Thompson loved is dead,” Killian bit out as he curled his hand into a fist in anger, glaring at Pinocchio. “I will not force him to remain with us if the only reason for him to stay is because he’s come this with us this far.  He has every right to go where he must to mourn Hewitt, whether that be Balliolshire or to parts unknown.  It is his choice.”

 

“I get it, I do,” Pinocchio said carefully, “but don’t you think it’s better he stay with us than go wandering off alone?  How much safer will he be in Balliolshire or anywhere else for that matter?  We have to think about the bigger picture.”

 

“Did Elsa turn your heart to ice?” Killian asked disgusted. “Or have you always been a heartless bastard?”

 

“Killian, he didn’t mean it like that,” Emma said placatingly.

 

“Didn’t he?” He accused, turning to her. “I guess not having to hear your best friend trying to muffle his sobs or calling out the same name night after night from the depths of a nightmare lowers your sympathy for a person.  He is suffering and if leaving eases that then I will let him go, no matter how much it pains me to do so.”

 

“Okay, Killian, it’s okay,” she said calmly running her hand across his forearm.  The tendons in his wrist felt like they were ready to snap with how hard he was clenching his fist.

 

“Nothing is okay, Swan but as Pinocchio said we must look at the bigger picture.  Thompson is leaving.  We need to discuss how we will proceed.”

 

Killian was still thrumming with tension.  Pinocchio looked contrite but whether it was genuine or an act he couldn’t tell.  He didn’t want to keep fighting, they had an unknown number of days ahead of them to be at each other’s throats constantly.  Emma continued her ministrations until he relaxed fractionally and she was able to slip her hand into his.

 

“Apologies, love,” he said, expelling a harsh breath.

 

It was her open affection that finally allowed him to become calm.  He didn’t know why she was doing so but he wasn’t about to question her on it and cause her to stop.  As he rubbed his thumb along hers he resolved to discuss it with her at a later time.

 

“I spoke with the captain this morning,” Pinocchio said after a beat of silence, wisely not remarking on their physical contact. “There are enough supplies to last us a few more weeks but our stores of food and fresh water are starting to dip.  We have to decide by tomorrow if we want to go back to Arendelle or continue south, after that we won’t be able to make it back.”

 

“So our choices are go back to Arendelle, where there’s someone who’s killed once that might come after me or keep going south where there’s definitely someone who wants to kill me,” Emma said sardonically. “Either way I might end up dead so I’m open to discussion on which one will see me living longer.”

 

“If we return to Arendelle our chances of being recognized are high but the risk is far lower if we return to Elsa’s castle under the cover of darkness,” Killian began. “There’s also the remainder of your crew and the Brooke itself back on the fjord, if they have chosen to stay instead of chasing after us.”

 

“They did,” Emma said with a distracted nod. “Elsa convinced Red it was best until we knew where the hell we were going to end up.”

 

“There’s hundreds of leagues of shoreline if we decide to go south,” Pinocchio mused. “It wouldn’t be too hard to have the captain drop us off where the forest is right next to the water.  We could easily slip into the woods of Camelot or even Misthaven and no one would know.”

 

“I don’t know,” Emma said unsure. “I’m already uncomfortable being this close to Regina’s strongholds.  She might have stepped up the patrols of the borders along the north if her spy knows we’re no longer in Arendelle.  We also don’t know who we can trust when we get there.  The people knew my mother as their beloved princess and then as the bandit that fought for them when she was hiding from Regina.  I’m just the one who abandoned them to her reign of terror again.”

 

“You didn’t abandon them, Emma,” Pinocchio scoffed. “If they knew how much it tortured you they could never think that.”

 

“But they probably do, Pinocchio!  To them Princess Emma might not even be alive and Captain Swan is nothing but a black hearted scoundrel who happens to have an affinity for the gold on Regina’s ships instead of the treasure on others.  Who’s to say they’ll offer help to either one when I ask for it or that they’ll even believe a word I have to say?”

 

Her hand was squeezing his almost to the point of pain but he bore it silently.  Emma had plainly been thinking along such lines for a while.  Killian didn’t know which option would be best, the one where they could regroup and start again or the one where they went headlong into the unknown and to the inevitable fight they had been marching towards from the moment the Queen had retaken Misthaven.

 

“Arendelle is our best shot at getting our feet back under us and coming up with something better than running blindly through the woods hoping there are still people loyal to my family,” Emma said giving a bone weary sigh.  She loosened her grip, “I’m sorry Killian but Thompson will have to return with us.  I’ll have Elsa arrange for his transport back to Balliolshire.”

 

“Now why would you do something foolish like that?”

 

They turned simultaneously to the door of the galley.  Thompson was standing there, his stance casual but Killian could see the ticking in his jaw.

 

“Tommy, we have no choice but to return to Arendelle,” Killian explained as he stood up.  He walked over to where Thompson was standing and lowered his voice. “I understand you’re upset with me but it’s the only course we have.”

 

“No it’s not,” Thompson said speaking to Emma and Pinocchio, ignoring Killian. “There are people who are still loyal to you in Misthaven and beyond, Highness.”

 

“You can call me Emma, Thompson,” she said gently.

 

“There are many things I could call you but Highness will suffice for now,” Thompson’s tone was pleasant but the steel in his eyes and the unceasing tic in his jaw contradicted it thoroughly. “If we return to Arendelle it will be only a matter of time before the Queen sends her forces there.  Queen Elsa is not prepared to fight a war, her kingdom has been isolated for too long.  When the Queen attacks Arendelle will fall.”

 

“When?” Pinocchio asked with a raised brow.

 

“The Queen most likely already knew that Captain Swan was seeking refuge there, the Brooke stands out and it’s a busy port with plenty of ears to listen to any wagging tongues.  Brighid’s death,” Thompson’s voice caught but he continued, staring at Emma, “was the Queen sending a message.  Her death was the first, anyone in league with you or known to help you will follow.  It’s a familiar tactic, she used it against your mother after all.”

 

Killian felt as if he was watching from afar.  Everything Thompson was saying was true.  He had even had similar thoughts when he couldn’t sleep in the dead of night.  To hear them said so plainly, without any tact, and from Thompson’s lips made it that much worse.

 

“Where do we go then?” Emma said at a near whisper.

 

“Luckily for you I know somewhere where you’ll not only be safe but the people will be clamoring to help you.”

 

A vein throbbed in Thompson’s temple and Killian instantly knew where he meant to lead them.

 

“Tommy, no, we’ll go back to Arendelle.  We don’t need to go there.   _ You _ don’t need to go back there,” Killian pleaded as he caught Thompson’s eye.

 

“Go where?” Emma asked, swinging a confused look between him and Thompson.  When they didn’t answer, locked in a silent argument, she raised her voice. “Killian, go where?!”

 

“To Sherwood, Highness,” Thompson said with a grim smile as Killian dropped his head in defeat. “Sherwood Forest to be exact.  The Merry Men will be more than happy to join our little quest.”

 

“Tommy-”

 

“Shall I tell the captain to set a course, Highness?  Or shall we further discuss the limited options we have?”

 

Thompson rocked back and forth as though he was marking the time it would take to make their decision.  Pinocchio was watching Emma, she was watching Killian and he was watching them all.  There was no better option, Thompson was right.  He gave Emma a small nod but he couldn’t find it in himself to even give her a smile of reassurance with it.

 

“Sherwood it is then,” Thompson said gailey, as though they had chosen a spot for a picnic. “I’ll be off to inform the captain then.”

 

“I’m coming with you,” Pinocchio said gruffly, scowling as he stood.

 

“Don’t trust me?  Still?” Thompson asked with a mocking pout.  Pinocchio flushed and Killian wondered how long Thompson had been listening in on their conversation before he stepped in. “Don’t worry I’ll have plenty of time to earn that trust.  Seeing as how I’ll be bunking with you for the rest of the voyage.”

 

“What?” Killian asked stunned.

 

Thompson finally turned to him, a fire burning hotly in his eyes. “I am committed to this fight, your Highness, if only to seek revenge for Brighid, but I blame you for her death.”

 

Thompson turned on his heel and left the galley, Pinocchio hot on his heel.  Killian listened Pinocchio’s furious tirade until he couldn’t hear him anymore.  Hot shame flooded him and the ever present guilt flared as he stared unseeing at the space where Thompson had been standing.

 

“Killian?” Emma’s voice was quiet as she moved in front of him.

 

“This is a right mess isn’t it Swan?” He said with a choked laugh.

 

“He’s hurting, he didn’t mean it,” she said vehemently.

 

“The thing is, I think he did.”

 

Emma didn’t try to refute him.  Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest.  With a shuddering breath he dropped his chin to the top of her head, taking comfort in her embrace.

 

“We need to tell him, and Pinocchio, they have a right to know,” he said, sighing.

 

“About us or my magic?” she whispered, they were too close to the open door for her to speak any louder about it.

 

“About everything really.  It’s time we put all our cards on the table before we get to Sherwood.”

 

“Will you tell me, why you were against going there?” She asked shifting her head to look up at him.

 

“I will, later, but first I believe we have some packing to do,” he said sadly, pulling back but grabbing her hands in his. “Consider my quarters yours, Swan.  I’m sure there’s an extra berth in the crew’s quarters that I can use for the remainder of our voyage.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll stay in your cabin and so will I,” she said shaking his hands a little.

 

“No, love, it wouldn’t be-”

 

“If you say proper I’ll make sure the crew bars you from their quarters and you’ll have to sleep on deck.  You don’t seem to have a problem with me sharing a cabin with Pinocchio,” she said accusingly.

 

“Not that I’ve voiced,” he grumbled but she seemed to hear him perfectly.

 

“Then this works out for everyone.  Thompson gets his space to get his head back on straight, Pinocchio will stop trying to strategize my ear off at night, and you can stop imagining what things might be happening between me and my oldest friend in the dark of night.  Now you can imagine what things we’ll be doing in the dark of night,” she said brightly.

 

“Swan!” He spluttered a warm flush working its way up his neck.

 

“Relax sailor,” she gave him a small but heartfelt grin. “I don’t pillage and plunder until I’ve been properly courted first.”

 

“Such brazen words for a princess, love,” he groaned.

 

“Pirate,” she teased, squeezing his hand.

 

“My pirate princess it seems,” he murmured pulling her back towards him.

 

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” she hummed.

 

“Good.”

 

As he dipped his head to kiss her he let his worries slip away.  It was a moment for them, a small bubble where they could just feel and be.  Their troubles would still be there when they parted but they would face them, together.


	15. Into the Woods

“Are you ready for tomorrow, love?”

 

“If ready means being terrified that the moment I step on dry land Regina will appear in a cloud of smoke and rip out my heart, then yeah, I’m ready.”

 

Emma huffed and he could hear her adjusting herself in her bunk.  Their cabin was dark but they had fallen into the habit of talking about everything and nothing until one of them succumbed to sleep.  It was the only thing they allowed themselves to succumb to in their quarters since she had joined him after Thompson’s declaration five days before.  She had teased him about propriety but he knew that she too wanted to slowly explore what was between them.

 

“Sherwood has always been an independent province within Misthaven, even during your parents and grandparents’ rule.  The Queen will not even think to look for you there,” Killian reminded her as he rolled to his side to face her bunk. “We have treaties with them as if they were their own kingdom.  The only ties they have to the Queen are the men that are conscripted into her army but they have no loyalty to her.  From what Thompson’s told me they call the duke of their land king and swear fealty to him alone under the safety of their own roofs.”

 

“How are they not their own kingdom then?  I remember meeting their duke at various balls or festivals but he seemed no more important than any other duke there,” she murmured thoughtfully.

 

“They have the land and titles but they rely too heavily on Misthaven’s gold and trade.  Not to mention that while the people of Sherwood are loyal there are hardly enough of them to defend themselves against a threat.  Lord Richard knows this and his wayward brother capitalizes on it,” Killian smiled to himself in the dark, amused that they were discussing the history of a land that was rightfully hers.

 

“Lord John?” She asked tentatively.

 

“Aye, he holds a high position in the Queen’s court.  He’s all but banished from Sherwood but has clawed his way into her good graces.  Thompson’s father is a particular ally of his.”

 

Killian had told her the basic story of Thompson’s past: his ruthless, debt riddled father Sir Guy of Gisbourne and how his own father had rescued him in a way.  Unlike Lord John, Sir Guy continued to live in Sherwood and thrived under the protection that Lord John and the Queen’s favor afforded him.  If Sir Guy learned that Thompson was back in Sherwood it would be a far cry from a happy reunion on both sides.

 

“Have you ever been to Sherwood?”

 

“No,” he said slowly as he considered how to answer her unknowingly loaded question. “I didn’t visit Misthaven until the Queen was back on the throne and by that time my prejudice against Sir Guy were so great I wouldn’t have been able to act civilly.  Liam was the one to visit Sherwood for what diplomatic matters there were.”

 

“You never wondered why you were kept from Misthaven?” She sounded merely curious, not accusing as he feared she would.

 

“No more than you might have wondered why you didn’t visit Balliolshire.  The prejudices of our parents influenced our lives quite thoroughly,” he said with a sigh as he shifted to his back. “I didn’t even know you existed until you told me of the lost princess of Misthaven back in Senlikli.”

 

Emma hummed but didn’t say anything in response.  He thought back to the day he had found out about the princess he’d never heard of.  The more he’d read about what had happened in Misthaven the more upset he had become at his father and even his mother.  They had aided the Queen with their complicity and it only fueled his desire to help set things right by restoring Emma to her throne.

 

“Would it have been you or Liam?” She asked, causing him to jerk awake from the semi-doze he’d fallen into.

 

“What do you mean, love?” He turned back on his side, barely making out her shape in the dark.

 

“If I hadn’t been born to Misthaven or you to Balliolshire and we were from kingdoms that actually got along, would it have been you or Liam that would have been vying for my hand?”

 

“Liam,” he answered.  Too quickly he realized, as he nearly bit through his lip snapping his jaw shut at his stupidity.

 

“I take it you’ve thought about it?” She sounded amused and he snorted a laugh through his nose.

 

“Aye,” he said after a beat. “It had crossed my mind and I’m sure it did yours as well.  He’s the oldest, heir to the throne, he would have been favored over me as he has in other kingdoms with other princesses.  Even with our parents’ more, shall we say lenient, beliefs when it comes to a match they still encouraged it to be a royal one.  His attachment to Princess Margaret from Glowerhaven satisfies both.”

 

“I remember her,” Emma said wistfully. “She was really nice to me even though she was a few years older.  Really adventurous, she stole a horse from the stables because she wanted to see more of our kingdom and couldn’t wait until our parents began their tour.”

 

“Were you by her side for this escapade, Swan?” Killian said smiling in the dark.

 

“Of course,” she stated. “Pinocchio was the one to tattle on us.  We didn’t even make it past the gate.”

 

“I’ve only met her once before and I’ve not spoken much to Liam about her but she’s snared his heart which means she must be a uniquely spirited lass.  I don’t think a single girl turned Liam’s head until she came along.”

 

“Do you think I would have?  Turned his head, I mean,” Emma asked softly.

 

A pang jolted his heart even though he knew they were talking of a false past.  His face grew warm as he battled against the real jealousy he felt for the hypothetical scenario of his brother courting Emma.  Yet he knew, somehow, that she would have.  Princess Emma of Misthaven would have bowled his brother over as she had done to him those many months ago.

 

“I believe he would have been dizzy from how fast he would have turned his head for you, love,” he said truthfully.

 

Suddenly he wasn’t inclined to talk any more despite feeling wide awake.  He turned in his bunk until he was resting on his other side, facing the cabin wall.

 

“He wouldn’t have turned mine,” Emma said softly. “Goodnight, Killian.”

 

“Goodnight,” he breathed with a warmth settling in his chest as he closed his eyes.

 

The next morning dawned clear and warm, a perfect day for sailing but not so ideal for slipping unnoticed into Sherwood Forest.  The four of them had gathered in the galley, not talking, waiting for the captain’s sign to move to the deck.  Thompson’s anger had abated but Killian could feel it simmering below the surface.  He was almost grateful Thompson refused to meet his eyes, he didn’t think he could stand seeing what they held.

 

“Elsa’s sent another message,” Pinocchio said idly looking over Emma’s shoulder.

 

They had found out quickly that Emma’s luminescent sparrow had delivered its message.  The next night they had received a snowflake from Elsa and they had been trading messages daily ever since.  Emma reached out her hand.  The snowflake landed, transformed, and she bent her head to read it.

 

Killian drew idle, unseen pictures on the wood of the table while he waited to hear what Elsa had to say.  They had so far found out that Red and the rest of the Brooke’s crew were on their way to join them, that their escape had gone unnoticed but their absence had not, and that there was still no sign of Hewitt’s murderer or her missing satchel.

 

“Nothing new,” Emma sighed as she flicked water off her hands. “She just wanted to send a message of luck before we stop communication.”

 

“Are you going to send one back?” Pinocchio asked wiping the water Emma had splashed on him from his face.

 

“I don’t see the point,” she said with a shrug. “She knows once we land I won’t send her one until I know we’re safe.  Well, as safe as can be.”

 

“You have nothing to fear from the Merry Men,” Thompson said with a roll of his eyes. “Robin is a kind-hearted man and his followers are rowdy but have good souls.  As I keep telling you.”

 

“That was how many years ago?” Emma said wearily.

 

It was an argument her and Thompson had had several times, Killian and Pinocchio had learned to tune it out.

 

“How much longer do you think?” Pinocchio asked, turning to him.

 

“Not much, the captain just needs to find a suitable place to anchor that won’t draw suspicion and allows us some form of cover as we slip into the woods,” Killian glanced over at Emma and Thompson who were still arguing. “The real problem will be finding the Merry Men before someone else finds us.”

 

“What do you mean?” Pinocchio sounded suspicious and looked it when Killian turned back to him.

 

“Both of them are right,” Killian said lowly, jerking his thumb at the other two. “Robin and his men are trustworthy and have been known to fight against tyranny before but that was a long time ago.  We have no way of knowing how dedicated they will be to helping us or if they’re still as pervasive as they had once been known to be.”

 

“Can’t Emma send them a message like she does with Elsa?” Pinocchio asked as though he hadn’t asked it before.

 

Killian sighed as he prepared to enter his own repeated discussion.

 

Pinocchio and Thompson had been told of Emma’s magic the night they had decided to head for Sherwood.  While Pinocchio had been hurt that Emma hadn’t shared with him that she had been practicing Thompson had been enraged further that he had been kept in the dark completely.  He had spent two days not talking to any of them until Emma had had enough.  Killian didn’t know what she’d said to him but he had joined their planning sessions from that point on.

 

“It’s not safe,” Thompson mocked in a high pitched voice, clearly a jab at Emma.  He gave them a smug grin. “What?  It’s what he was going to say, right?  Because why would we use the one thing that could make everything easier on us?”

 

“Enough,” Killian warned.  He’d had enough of Thompson’s digs and ill temper being targeted on anyone other than himself. “Right now the only thing that would make things easier would be watching your temper.  If we are at each other’s throats then we won’t need the Queen to destroy us, we’ll do it to ourselves.”

 

“I think I’ve deserved the right to be angry, your Highness,” Thompson sneered.

 

“Do you think I’m not angry as well?” Killian bit back.

 

“Don’t, don’t make this about you,” Thompson warned.

 

“Isn’t it?!”Killian snarled, slamming his fist on the table as he stood. “Are you so blind that you can’t see that you’re not the only one that lost Hewitt?  I may not have been in love with her but I knew her, sailed with her.

 

“You blame me for her death and I’m glad for it, I deserve it.  There isn’t a moment that passes that I don’t regret dragging you with me, forcing you to follow me and not even telling you why.  And now Hewitt is dead and that will haunt me for the rest of my life.  You know what’s the worst part?  That I’m losing you as a friend because my own stupid, senseless actions.”

 

He was breathing hard, towering over the others.  Pinocchio was pointedly staring at the surface of the table having been caught in the middle of the fight that had been brewing for days and Emma was looking at him with tears standing in her eyes.  He looked away from her.  Thompson was staring at him, his jaw twitching in agitation, but his hazel eyes were a storm of emotion.  Anger and agitation were at the forefront but Killian thought he could see regret in their depths.

 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, I can’t find it in me to forgive myself, but we need to find a way to set that aside to get through this.  Once it’s done…” Killian paused, dropping his gaze, and took a deep breath. “Once it’s done you will be free to do as you wish.  If you’ll excuse me I’ll go see if the captain has found a suitable landing site.”

 

Emma grabbed his hand as he stepped over the bench to leave.  He gave her a wan smile but let his hand slip through hers as he walked away.

 

Killian didn’t make it far.  He was halfway to the galley door when the captain stepped through.

 

“We’re about to set anchor,” the captain said directly to Killian.  If he noticed any tension in the room he studiously ignored it. “Be on deck in twenty minutes.  We’ll be ready for you.”

 

He nodded in acknowledgement.  The captain nodded back and left them without another word.  Killian stood in the doorway for another moment before taking a deep breath and heading to his cabin to retrieve his rucksack.  He didn’t look back.

 

There was a part of him that wanted to give Thompson his reprieve immediately.  He could be dropped off anywhere he wished by the captain and be done with them.  It wasn’t a possibility though.  They needed Thompson to be their means of contacting Robin and his men.  Killian also selfishly wanted him to stay in hopes that their fractured friendship could heal.

 

As soon as he made it to his cabin he flopped down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arm.  Emma would be joining him soon, if not to talk then to collect her own belongings.  He just needed a moment to collect himself and shut away the ever present pain and guilt he had pressing on him.

 

It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of heavy footsteps heading his way.  They stopped momentarily at the door before entering the cabin.  Killian heard the person sit down with a sigh and if the solid tread hadn’t given them away then the distinct male tone would have.  He didn’t remove his arm, not quite ready to talk to the man sitting across from him.

 

“You know he doesn’t actually believe any of the shit he’s been saying right?”

 

Killian dropped his arm in surprise, gaping at Pinocchio.  He had expected Thompson to be the one sitting on the bunk with a grudging apology that held no sincerity.

 

“He’s doing a convincing job of acting like he does,” Killian grumbled as he sat up.

 

“Oh, right now he’s too much of a mess to realize what’s up from down,” Pinocchio said offhandedly as he reached into his coat.  He pulled out a flask and offered it to Killian, who declined. “He’ll figure out soon enough that you’re not the one he should be mad at and that he’s known it all along.  Which, coincidentally, you should know that too.”

 

Pinocchio took a sip from the flask, watching him with raised eyebrows.  Killian held out his hand, shaking his head.  From the direction the conversation was already taking he would need a drink or two to fortify him.  The liquor inside the flask sloshed gently as Pinocchio handed it over.

 

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Killian said, taking a healthy swallow from the flask.  It was a whisky of some sort from what he could discern past the initial burn. “His anger may abate but his reasoning for it still holds.”

 

“Did Emma tell you about my father?”

 

Killian knew that Pinocchio wasn’t asking as a way of changing the subject or making idle chatter.  He hadn’t spoken to Pinocchio much over the course of their travels.  Any conversation he made with the man was direct and succinct, as if every word out of his mouth was carefully scrutinized and he only had an allotted a certain amount of words with which to say his peace.

 

“Nothing more than his name was Geppetto and was as much a father figure to her as her own father was. Why?” Killian took another drink from the flask before handing it back.  From the torn look in Pinocchio’s eyes it appeared like he would need it.

 

“Papa was already an old man when he carved me-”

 

“Carved you?” Killian asked doubtful he had heard Pinocchio right.

 

“Yeah,” Pinocchio gave him a wry smile and took his own swallow from the flask. “You were a little off with your accusation.  I may not have been born a man but I’ve always had a heart, even if it was a wooden one.”

 

“I… what?”

 

Killian felt like he’d had far more to drink than the two mouthfuls he had taken.  He idly wondered if the flask contained more than whisky but Pinocchio had been drinking from it as well.

 

“It’s a long story but the short version is I was once a puppet and Blue turned me into a boy.  She told me that I’d stay that way as long as I was ‘brave, truthful, and unselfish’.”

 

Pinocchio looked at him carefully, as if expecting him to call him mad and storm out of the cabin.  Killian was too flabbergasted to do anything but motion for the flask again.  Once he’d downed another swallow he could think of only one comment to make that wouldn’t offend.

 

“Quite a burden for anyone even without the threat of becoming what they once were.”

 

“Funny,” Pinocchio said with a light laugh as he took the flask again.

 

“What is?” Killian asked trying to find exactly where the humor was in the story.

 

“Emma said something like that to Blue the first time I broke my promise,” Pinocchio said fondly. “She’s really the reason I’m not a walking, talking tree right now.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“I told a lie,” Pinocchio said with a shrug. “Over something small, I can’t remember exactly what, but I do remember the pain of my nose growing and the panic when it looked more like a branch than the nose I had grown used to.  I had been a boy for about five years at the time but truly alive for only seven, it had been easy to keep my promise up to that point.”

 

“What changed?” Killian asked intrigued despite the seeming outlandishness of the tale.

 

“Emma,” he answered matter of factly. “I don’t have many friends and at that time she was my only one.  It was also the time she started causing small troubles with her magic.  She had done something with it and was worried about making her parents mad so I told them that I did it.  Next thing I know my nose looked like a tree branch, both of us were crying, Emma’s magic was out of control, and Blue had to be summoned to calm us down.”

  
  


Killian took the flask without hesitation when Pinocchio offered it after he took a drink.  He noted that it was more empty than full and the sun hadn’t yet reached its zenith.  It didn’t bother him much.

 

“So, how did Emma allow you to continue to grow as a man instead of changing back with every minor transgression?”

 

“Some more tears, a couple of threats, and by being very stubborn.  I’m sure her mother may have helped sway Blue but my memories a bit fuzzy about that.  After Papa got me to calm down Blue told me that I still had to keep my promise or I would change back but I would have a chance to redeem myself.  For every wrong I had to do an equal right, there was a balance to maintain.

 

“I apologized for lying and told everyone what had really happened.  Immediately my nose went back to being a normal nose and I learned my lesson.  After that I lived as promised: brave, truthful, and selfless.  Until Regina.”

 

Without being prompted Killian handed over the flask.  Pinocchio tipped it to his lips immediately and upended it, draining it in one go.

 

“Papa was already an old man when I became a boy,” Pinocchio said again. “When Regina retook the throne he was no longer a part of Queen Snow’s council.  I had taken his place when he decided it was time for him to spend the rest of his days back in our old cottage building toys for the village children.  Regina didn’t care.

 

“We had already fled the castle and we thought we had escaped unharmed.  Granny was supposed to go to his cottage and help him leave but she ran into some of Regina’s guards.  Just like Papa she wasn’t as young as the rest of us on the run.  She made it, Papa didn’t.

 

“I didn’t find out until we were all together again in another kingdom.  Even then I found out through rumors that he had been-” Pinocchio swallowed hard.  His voice shook as he continued, “-tortured before Regina ripped out his heart and crushed it.”

 

Killian felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.  He knew exactly how Pinocchio must have felt upon getting the news because he had felt it himself.  The echoes of the pain and disbelief at hearing about his own father’s death from afar still resonated.

 

“I’m sorry, mate,” Killian said, at a loss to say more.

 

“I didn’t take it well,” Pinocchio continued. “I didn’t want to believe it was true but we kept getting word of people’s deaths and his name almost always came up.  Then I got angry, blamed Granny for not trying harder, Emma for pretty much everything, and myself for not being to one to go for him.  I kept telling myself that if I had just been there or planned a better escape or even fortified the damn door he’d still be alive.”

 

“There’s nothing you could have done.  The Queen was out for blood and she would have gotten it one way or another.”

 

He realized the irony of his words as he said them.  Pinocchio merely raised his eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.

 

“I know that now,” Pinocchio said, seemingly passing on lecturing him, “but I didn’t then.  Instead I said a lot of things I didn’t mean and left.  We had only been on the run for a few months, struggling to find somewhere Regina didn’t have spies, and I took off.  That was the first time.”

 

“The first time what?” Killian asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

 

“I started to change back,” Pinocchio sighed and rubbed his hand over his left knee. “At first I panicked but I couldn’t go back not when I was still so angry and hurt.  I was able to counteract the effects for a while, helping out on struggling farms for nothing or protecting people from Regina’s guards but I kept slipping.  I started drinking to forget, gambling away what money I could get, fighting when it all became too much, stealing, lying, and being a damn coward.  It was a few years before I found my way back to Emma begging for her forgiveness and almost completely changed back.”

 

Pinocchio bent down and gripped his trouser leg at the hem, pulling it up until it was bunched over his knee.  What Killian saw made him blink twice and then lean down to get a closer look.  What should have been flesh was, in fact, solid wood carved into the shape of a calf.  Killian could even see the grooves and gouges that would have been made by a knife during carving.  He jumped a little when Pinocchio let the trouser leg drop back down and sat back up guiltily.

 

“Does it hurt?” Killian cringed at the childish question.  He hastened to cover his mistake, “I’ve never seen anything indicating that it does.”

 

“I have my good days and my bad ones.  It took a long, long time to atone for all that I’d done and it’s been years since I’ve been a whole man,” Pinocchio looked up at him earnestly. “I blamed everyone for Papa’s death but no one deserved it, except for Regina.  She is the reason for everything that’s happened to me, to you, Thompson, Emma, her parents, the kingdom.  It’s all her doing.  Don’t forget that.”

 

Killian looked down at his lap, to the ring that Emma had given him and to his hands that bore scars and calluses that seemed to mark the passage of time as effectively as rings on a tree.  He thought back to that fateful day where his father had given them their mission, at the Queen’s behest that was truly a threat.  Even his parts of his earlier life had been dictated by her whims and by having his parents, and thus their kingdom, under her thumb.

 

He still felt an immense guilt for Hewitt’s death and for lying to Thompson about so many things but he was beginning to see that he wasn’t entirely to blame.  It occurred to him that Pinocchio may have been the only person able to break through to his senses.  If Emma had approached him he would have cherished her words but thought of them only as a comforting lie, even if she had said the exact same things as Pinocchio had.  Pinocchio’s aloofness and lack of camaraderie with him were what he needed to be able to see the truth.

 

“Aye, she will pay for what she’s done,” Killian said as he clenched his fist and looked at Pinocchio with determination. “She has much to answer for.”

 

“And she will but first we need to find Robin, meet back up with Red, get word to Granny once we’ve established some kind of safe haven, and figure out exactly what the hell we plan to do to defeat Regina once and for all,” Pinocchio said, standing and reaching for Emma’s pack, which was leaning against the foot of her bunk.

 

“Did Swan send you to speak to me?” Killian asked, not entirely upset after the revelations he’d had but still suspicious.

 

“No, I volunteered.  Whether I like it or not you’re the leader of our little motley crew, pretty much have been since Blackbeard.  We couldn’t have you shirking your duties because you were feeling sorry for yourself.”

 

Pinocchio smirked as he slung Emma’s pack over his shoulder.  Killian watched him leave torn between amusement and annoyance.  It was nice to finally know where he stood with him but he had a feeling Pinocchio’s true loyalty started and ended with Emma.  That was something he’d have to address once they had some semblance of a plan in place.

 

Picking up his pack Killian followed Pinocchio out of the cabin and up to the deck.  He didn’t feel the same sense of sadness as when he’d left the Jewel or when he watched the Brooke get ever smaller but he did feel a bit melancholic.  His days on the Istapp had been filled with worry and sadness and yet it was the place where he had grown closer to Emma, even as he had grown further from Thompson.  As he stepped foot on deck he was suddenly glad to be forced to leave it and the unpleasant memories behind.  If he ever looked back to the voyage he resolved to only remember the good that came from it.

 

Emma, Pinocchio and Thompson were all waiting by the helm, allowing the crew to do their duties but with enough of a vantage point to see exactly what was going on.  Killian saw that Emma had already pulled up the hood on the cloak she was wearing despite the shoreline appearing completely deserted.  They had agreed to travel as inconspicuously as possible and even though it had been a decade since she’d been in Misthaven they would take no chances.

 

“Where are we going ashore?” Killian asked as he approached.

 

“In that copse of trees there off the starboard side,” Thompson said pointing it out. “It’s thicker than the surrounding forest and luckily for us is practically right at the waterline.  The captain let us know that we’re a day or two away from the nearest village if we stay near the water and head east, four or five days if we head south into the woods.”

 

“What’s to the west?” Pinocchio asked as he looked that way.

 

“A week’s journey would bring us to a place that would have her guards stopping us well before we could get near it,” Thompson said, a warning in his voice.

 

“Why?” Emma asked sharply.

 

Killian looked over at her and saw she was staring at Thompson eagerly, almost feverishly.  Pinocchio was watching her carefully but he seemed to understand where her thoughts were.

 

“It’s the palace the Queen was banished to after your parents defeated her,” Thompson said warily.  Something tugged at Killian’s memory about that particular castle. “When she took the throne back she abandoned it but it’s still heavily guarded.  No one seems to know why.”

 

“Pinocchio,” Emma breathed turning to him, her eyes wide and hopeful.

 

Suddenly Killian remembered what it was he knew about that particular castle.

 

“Swan, we can’t risk it.”

 

“Emma, we don’t even know if he’s really there.”

 

He and Pinocchio had spoken at the same time but their words seemed to go unheeded.  Emma started pacing the deck in agitation, her eyes constantly turning westward.

 

“We have to try.  He’s there, I know it!  Why else would she have her guards there?”

 

“What is she talking about?” Thompson asked confused as Emma pushed back her hood in frustration.

 

“My father!  He’s being held there as her prisoner.  We’ve heard the rumors-”

 

“We heard those years ago, Emma,” Pinocchio said placatingly, reaching for her arm as she passed by. “Even if he was ever there he could have been moved by now.  Just because she’s guarding that palace doesn’t mean that he’s there.  It could be any number of things.”

 

“I can’t sit back and do nothing,” she said angrily, shaking off Pinocchio’s hand and resumed pacing. “I have to do something.”

 

Pinocchio looked at him beseechingly.  In that moment he realized why Pinocchio had told him to lead.  His loyalty to Emma was also his weakness, he would follow her not matter what, and they had reached a point where she was no longer objective about their mission.  Killian would also follow Emma’s lead, of that there was no doubt, but in this instance he wasn’t letting his emotions cloud his judgement.  Emma was blinded by the revelation that her father could be near.

 

“Emma,” Killian said softly, gently grasping her hand as she passed by again. “There are only four of us.  We’d be up against an untold amount of guards along with what are sure to be other formidable defenses.  To press forward without any kind of plan and no guarantee that your father is there?  It’s suicide, love.”

 

Emma seemed to deflate before him.  Her shoulders slumped and her free arm wrapped around her stomach.  The hand that was in his tightened almost to the point of pain but he bore it for her.

 

“I promise you if we learn that he is truly there we will do whatever it takes to free him.  Until then we must be patient and continue on as we planned,” he said vehemently, stroking her hand with his thumb.  He saw the captain signaling them and turned to Thompson and Pinocchio, “We’ll head east.  It’ll be easier for us if we find a village sooner rather than later.”

 

They disembarked, Emma’s hand firmly in his the entire way to the shore.  Pinocchio and the captain exchanged a few words as they climbed from the rowboat.  Killian could barely make out what they were saying but it seemed the captain was apologizing for not being able to be of more service.  He felt gratitude for what the man and his crew had done for them but was glad to let Pinocchio give their thanks.  His attentions were firmly on their unknown surroundings and trying to strategize exactly how they would proceed.

 

For the first few hours they headed east, picking their way through the forest only a few yards from the shoreline.  When the trees thinned out it was easy for them to see the sunlight reflecting off the water.  Slowly Killian began to lead them south, farther away from the sea and further into the forest.  It was nearly nightfall before Thompson noticed.

 

“I thought we were headed east, mate,” Thompson’s voice sounded more like himself than he had during their entire voyage from Arendelle.  It was also the first time he’d voluntarily talked to Killian directly in nearly a week.

 

“We were and now we’re headed south,” Killian answered as he adjusted his pack to his other shoulder with a grimace. “I didn’t want any of the crew to guess what our real heading was.”

 

“You don’t trust them?” Emma asked disbelieving.

 

“Yes and no,” Killian sighed, urging them forward with a wave of his hand when they showed signs of slowing to listen to him. “I believe they are loyal to their queen and Elsa chose a worthy crew but gold has a way of making any man talk if there’s enough of it.  I didn’t want to take the chance of the wrong people quickly finding us out.  It’s bad enough that they could spill that they helped four people on the run from Arendelle escape into Sherwood Forest.”

 

“That’s a bit paranoid don’t you think?” Pinocchio asked, his judgement clear in his tone.

 

“Better to be paranoid than finding ourselves walking into a trap,” he muttered, checking their position against the setting sun and adjusting their course accordingly. Raising his voice he continued, “By heading south into the forest we increase the odds of running into the Merry Men.  From what I remember they weren’t too fond of villages and their habit of hosting the local law men.”

 

Killian chanced a glance at Thompson and saw him smirking in amusement.  Between that and the civil words he felt his steps get lighter and his spirits buoy.  He knew they were still far from a full reconciliation but they were firmly on their way.  Not even the quickly setting sun could dampen his mood.

 

They continued heading south until an hour after the sun had fully set.  Killian had wanted to continue but the moon was just a sliver in the sky and any light it would have provided was lost in the thick canopy of leaves overhead.  The meager torches they had constructed barely penetrated the darkness so with regret he suggested they stop and make camp.  He was met with quiet sighs of relief and immediately felt bad for pushing them as far as he had.  His one alleviation amidst their tired groans and mumbled grumbling was that they had covered a fair amount of distance.  For being used to traversing long distances on board a ship a few complaints were warranted.

 

After Emma started a fire with a flick of her wrist they broke up the night into watches as they ate a meager supper.  Everyone but Pinocchio, who drew the first watch, settled down to get what rest they could.  It was a balmy night, the summer solstice having barely passed, and he was glad for it.  They hadn’t packed any kind of bed rolls or even blankets counting on the weather staying mild and temperate, if a bit warm, during their journey.  Their packs were their pillows and their cloaks and coats would serve as their blankets.

 

Emma surprised him by settling down by him, not quite next to him but close enough that there was no mistaking her choice of where she wanted to lay her head.  She hadn’t spoken much during their trek into Sherwood Forest.  He knew she was coming to terms with what he had promised her, her quiet melancholic air attested to that but it had still stung when she hadn’t answered any questions with more than a few words.  Killian could only hope that with some sleep and the perspective that a new day would bring she would see that he was truly trying to help her in every way possible.  After removing a sharp rock from under his shoulder he fell asleep almost instantly, his left hand resting away from his body and available for Emma should she need it.

 

The next thing Killian was aware of was someone shaking him awake.  He groaned as he turned onto his back, his neck and shoulders tense and nearly every muscle protesting at the movement.

 

“Come on, sailor, it’s your watch,” Emma whispered.

 

“Swan?” He said groggily as he finally opened his eyes and tried to focus on the dark blur leaning over him.

 

“Who else?” she chided him but he could hear the grin in her words as she settled on the forest floor her feet near his by where the fire should have been.

 

The wood had burned down to nearly nothing, only a few glowing embers remained.  Frowning he glanced up at the sky.  From what he could tell through the trees the crescent moon had set which meant he had slept through what was supposed to have been his watch.

 

“I thought I was supposed to take second watch, love,” Killian said softly, sitting up and letting his coat pool in his lap.

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said in a small voice, all trace of humor gone. “I kept thinking about how close we are and how he could be there, locked up or even in chains, and I’m doing nothing.  He’s been there for years, Killian,  _ years _ !”

 

He couldn’t see well in the dark but he brushed his hand across the ground toward her until he found her arm.  Following it up to where her hand was wrapped tightly around her elbow he gently pried it loose and held it in his.  She took a shuddering breath and when she continued he had to strain to hear her.

 

“I knew when I ran that I might never see them again.  Regina can’t kill them, the Dark One gave them protection against her a long time ago, but knowing that didn’t stop me from worrying.  Then we started hearing the rumors about where they were being held.  It’s one of the reasons I commandeered a ship, I wanted to be able to save one of them or at least try to.  Now I have the chance to do something and I can’t.  It’s almost worse than when left them behind.”

 

“Emma,” Killian said, his heart breaking for her. “We can’t risk it.”

 

Shifting closer to her he realized she was shivering.  With his free hand he maneuvered his coat so that it covered her as best it could.  The night was still warm but he knew it wasn’t the temperature affecting her.

 

“I know, I know,” he could hear the tears in her words. “You were right, we don’t know anything and it could just get us killed if we tried.  I just can’t help feeling like I’m letting him down.”

 

It was as though saying the words out loud branded the truth of them in her and Emma burst into tears.  Immediately Killian pushed himself onto his knees and gathered her in his arms.  Despite the awkward position and the stiffness of his muscles he was able to lift her and carry her to the nearest silhouette of a tree.  Carefully he sat back down, using the trunk to support his back as he held Emma in his lap.  She was clinging to him, sobbing into his shoulder, and he could do nothing more than murmur assurances in her ear and hold her close.

 

Finally she quieted, taking hiccuping breaths as she slowly relaxed in his arms.  He began to rub her back and rearranged his coat, which had miraculously stayed with them, so her legs were covered.  He wasn’t sure if Pinocchio or Thompson had woken but he found he didn’t care if they overheard what he needed to say.

 

“I know this is hard for you, love.  I can’t imagine how incredibly frustrating and hopeless it may seem but we  _ will _ find your parents and we  _ will _ free them.  We just need to have an idea of what we’re heading into and any semblance of a plan in place.  Even if the Merry Men can’t help us we’ll find a way.  For all of that you should know that I am in this, with you, for the long haul.  Be it trudging through the woods, storming dungeons, or facing a Queen with a penchant for fireballs I will be by your side through it all.  Never doubt that, Emma.”

 

She didn’t say anything, merely nodded into his chest.  Within minutes her hands slackened and her breathing steadied.  He was honored she felt comfortable enough with him to fall asleep so easily.  Shifting into a slightly more comfortable position he readied himself for a long night.

 

The next morning’s dawn was already warm, the heat from the previous day having lingered through the night.  Killian had stayed awake the entire time, not only unwilling to disturb Emma’s slumber but also furiously trying to figure out what they were truly going to do once finding the Merry Men.  He had come up with nothing and knew he would suffer for his night of next to no sleep.

 

Once the rest of the group awoke they quickly packed up and began moving, eating bits of hardtack and dried meat as they walked.  They stopped mid-day to rest and try their hand at hunting, which proved fruitless and wasted time no matter how amusing it was to watch Pinocchio try to get a rabbit with a shoddy attempt at a spear.  Their meal ended up consisting of more hardtack and berries that Thompson had gathered as he reminisced about eating them when he was young.  They continued on.  By the time night had fallen they had covered a substantial amount of ground and were subsequently bone tired.

 

Again Killian was awoken by Emma in the middle of the night for the third watch, despite him insisting on taking the second, and again they settled themselves against a tree with Emma falling asleep on his shoulder.  Thompson relieved him after only a couple of hours with a light kick to his foot and an admonishment to get some sleep.

 

They kept going much the same for the following two days constantly heading south.  Pinocchio and Emma eventually began voice their worries about not having any sign of people in the forest but Killian assured them he wasn’t discouraged.  He made jokes about the Merry Men posting arrows to direct them or how they might stumble upon them mid-meal and finally get something hot to eat.  Anything to keep the levity and to discourage them from realizing what he already had.  They were being followed.

 

As they set up camp at the end of their third day’s trek Killian maneuvered himself to Thompson’s side.  He had to do it with caution since he and Thompson had yet to hold a conversation together without a mediator and approaching him alone could tip off whoever was watching them.

 

“Thompson, I was wondering if you noticed any other edible plants along the way?” Killian said casually as he began to help Thompson set up the fire ring.

 

“Not as such, no,” Thompson said gruffly, clearing dead leaves with sweeps of his foot.

 

“I thought I saw one similar to those back home but I couldn’t be sure.  I didn’t want to sicken the lot of us by gathering something that looked harmless but in reality wasn’t,” Killian hoped he was getting his point across as he focused on setting up a circle of stones around the cleared dirt. “You always had a keener eye when it came to discovering such things.”

 

Killian was still focusing on placing the stones but he saw Thompson stiffen and his hands twitch at his sides.

 

“Aye, well you were always hopeless at noticing the smaller details.  I saw something that wouldn’t poison us two days ago, figured we had enough hard tack and dried meat to make it where we’re going.  I’ve seen it here and there as we’ve gone along but if you’re craving something fresh I’ll be more than happy to gather it up,” Thompson’s voice was calm but there was a tightness to it that Killian recognized.  One that indicated he was ready to do what was needed.

 

“No, no,” Killian said as he stood, coming to a decision. “We’ll stick with what we’ve got.  There’s still plenty to go around and those berries you’ve been collecting are fresh enough for me.  Who knows, perhaps we’ll get lucky and a nice fat rabbit will wander into our camp.”

 

“Seems more likely than not the deeper we head into the forest.  The longer we’re here the more they get used to our presence.” Thompson agreed, tapping his toe on one of the stones Killian had placed. “Now, would you like to get the wood or shall I?”

 

“I’ve got it.  Perhaps I’ll stumble across that rabbit, yeah?”

 

Thompson chuckled and shook his head as he bent down to adjust some of the stones.  Killian walked away with a smile.  Clearly, Thompson not only thought their shadow wasn’t a threat but he was also coming back around to more than just tolerating Killian’s presence.

 

“Everything okay?” Emma asked, catching his arm as he walked by.

 

“Perfectly fine, love,” Killian said, not wanting to worry her when he was no longer worried himself. “I’m off to gather some firewood is there anything you’d like me to keep an eye out for?”

 

“A copper tub filled with warm water, a cake of lavender soap and a meal that I don’t have to chew for ten minutes before swallowing?” She asked hopefully.

 

“I’ll see what I can scare up, Swan,” he said laughing, ducking down to place a light kiss on her cheek.

 

That night around the fire was more jovial than any night they’d had since Hewitt’s death.  Thompson regaled them with tales from his childhood, ones that made no mention of his father or his true identity.  Killian rebuttled with stories from their time at the academy and the various infractions they piled up their first year there.  Emma and Pinocchio chimed in with their exploits in the castle when they were young, complete with an enthusiastic retelling of the swan story from Pinocchio’s point of view.  By the time they settled down for the night it was late and Killian insisted on the first watch.

 

Thompson gave him a knowing look and Killian nodded.  Whoever was following them would make their presence known soon.  It would be one of them that would greet the person when they did.  Even if it meant dividing the night’s watch between the two of them only.

 

Killian woke with a start the next morning, causing Emma to groan in her sleep and burrow further into his shoulder.  He blinked groggily in the morning light wondering what woke him so suddenly when his gaze fixed on the two men sitting across from him.  The fire had been rebuilt, crackling merrily and just barely covering the deep murmur of voices that had awoken him.  It was the unfamiliar accent that had done it, lilting at times and yet flat at others.

 

It appeared that their shadow had made an appearance.

 

The man seemed to be about his age, perhaps a few years older.  His skin was tan in a way that came naturally and was only enhanced by time spent in the sun.  He was wearing a knit cap but Killian could see curly dark brown hair poking out from underneath that matched the color of his thick beard.  The most striking thing he noticed was that the man didn’t seem hostile or wary at all.  In fact he was smiling broadly, causing twin dimples to appear in his cheeks, talking with Thompson as if they were old friends.  Killian wondered if they might be.

 

He couldn’t join them without disturbing Emma and they hadn’t seemed to have noticed that he was awake.  Instead he took the time to observe without them knowing.  The longer he watched the more he was sure that Thompson knew the man.  Killian, however, couldn’t tell from Thompson’s gestures or expressions if it was someone he was glad or wary to see.

 

“Who the hell are you?!”

 

Pinocchio’s voice rang across the camp.  Emma jerked awake and Killian tightened his arm around her shoulders to keep her from reacting with her magic.  The man held up his hands in a placating gesture while Thompson rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I’m just an old friend of Jon’s here,” the man said keeping his hands up but nodding his head toward Thompson. “Never thought I’d see the likes of him around these parts as long as his father still lived.”

 

“Jon, who’s Jon?” Pinocchio asked confused.

 

“I am,” Thompson answered with a growl.  He turned to the man, “I go by Thompson now.”

 

“Really?  No wonder your father thought you’d died.  Held a grand funeral for you and everything.  Made the people pay triple taxes for it too,” the man said with slight accusation.

 

“He would have found reason to triple the taxes whether or not I stuck around and you know it,” Thompson said bitingly.

 

“I know, we were able to feed the villages for a month with the candlesticks from the service alone,” the man laughed.

 

“Good to know my death was good for something,” Thompson said flatly but his lips were twitching with amusement.

 

“I’m sorry, but really, who the hell are you?” Emma asked, pulling out of his grasp to sit up fully.

 

“Apologies, my lady,” the man stood, he was only a few inches shorter than Thompson, and bowed whipping his hat off his head. “Allow me to introduce myself: I’m Roland Hood of the Merry Men.  I would have made your lovely acquaintance sooner but I wasn’t entirely sure if you were friend or foe.”

 

“Have you been following us?” Emma asked suspiciously.

 

“I have but rest assured I meant you no harm,” Roland winked and Killian felt a white hot poker of jealousy stab him in the side. “It’s not every day that a group of sailors decides to go on an extended stroll through Sherwood Forest.”

 

“How did you know we were sailors?” Killian frowned, suddenly wondering just how long they had been followed.

 

He stood, Emma and Pinocchio following suit.  Roland smiled amused as if he knew they were trying to intimidate him.

 

“Your clothes for one,” Roland said waving a hand at them. “Linens instead of wools, your cloaks and coats too heavy for the season unless you’ve travelled from a northern kingdom, and your boots are still covered in dried spray from the sea.  Not to mention you can’t set a trap or hunt to save your lives.”

 

“We would have figured it out eventually,” Thompson sighed. “Or one of your lot would have found us delirious from hunger.  Doesn’t exactly matter now.”

 

“What makes you think I’m inclined to help?” Roland turned to Emma. “Not that I’ll leave you to starve, my lady, but I can’t go offering my services if I don’t know what it will entail.”

 

“Protection, information, and getting on Regina’s bad side.  That’s all you need to know for now,” Emma said, scowling.

 

“Hmmm, seems like a worthy enough cause,” Roland scratched his chin and then broke out into a wide smile. “You have my assurances that I’ll back you in your endeavor!  Jon nearly had me convinced but you’ve done a spectacular job of that, my lady.”

 

“You can stop with that ‘my lady’ nonsense and just call me Emma,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

 

Killian was glad she hadn’t referred to herself as Swan.  It had been her moniker for years but he felt it had become something more when he used it and she responded.  Despite that his jealousy at Roland’s flirting hadn’t abated.

 

“Emma.  It suits you, my lady.  Now comes the hard part.”

 

“And what would that be, mate?” Killian asked, trying and failing to keep a civil tone.

 

Roland bent down and picked up a bow and quiver Killian hadn’t noticed sitting at his feet.  Slinging both over his shoulder so they rested across his back he gave them a grin.

 

“Convincing my father and the rest of the Merry Men to join us.”

 

Thompson groaned and Roland laughed, leaving the rest of them to glance at each other with the same looks of worry.  Killian could only hope that Robin was as easily swayed as his son was.  They had no other option with which to place their hope upon.


	16. Who to Be

Killian bit back a grimace as he worked his boots off.  Despite being well worn and comfortable in other circumstances they weren’t holding up to walking through the forest for five full days.  He was favoring his right foot where a blister had formed on his heel but, because of the limp it caused, he could feel the beginnings of another blister on on his left.

 

They were all limping, Pinocchio worse than the rest of them, and Roland had taken pity on them.  After assuring them that they wouldn’t be losing any time he led them to a stream.  It was a testament to their discomfort that none of them had complained and immediately began wrenching off their boots.  Killian finally pulled his left boot off and his socks quickly followed.

 

The sound of splashing and a sigh of relief reached him.  Emma was standing in the middle of the stream, her trousers rolled up to her knees and a look of pure bliss on her face.  Killian stood and carefully made his way down the bank and into the water himself.  His moan of relief echoed through the trees and any embarrassment he should have felt was washed downstream along with his pain.

 

“You didn’t even bother rolling up your trousers, Jones,” Emma said amused.

 

He looked down and sure enough the bottoms of his trousers were flowing around his ankles with the current.

 

“I’m afraid so, love.  You may have distracted me with the look of pleasure on your face when you entered the water,” he said, raising his eyebrows and licking his bottom lip.

 

Emma laughed, a clear and loud peal that reverberated through the trees.  The others looked over at her from their various spots along the stream with confusion.  Killian found himself grinning widely.  He couldn’t even pretend to be put out that she was laughing at his flirting, the sound of her laughter had been absent for days.

 

“You can’t blame me for that, sailor,” she said with a sly smile. “That moan of yours could make a lesser girl blush.”

 

Killian felt the back of his neck heating up but ignored it.  Slowly he made his way over to her, careful not to slip on a moss covered rock and ruin the effect he was going for.  He let his grin slide into something sharper, one he used many times in taverns to great success.  Her own smile faltered as her mouth dropped open slightly watching him approach her.  Sidling up to her side he dropped his head to murmur in her ear.

 

“It’s almost a shame you’re made of sterner stuff, Swan.  I’m quite fond of watching you go red for me.”

 

He was rewarded almost instantly as her cheeks turned a deep pink.  Taking advantage of her distraction he ran his hand across her back and braced himself.  Hooking his foot around her ankle he pulled it sharply out from under her catching her under her arms as she lost her balance and dropped towards the stream.  Her flailing succeeded in splashing them both but he caught her before she could fall into the water completely.

 

“Jones!” She shrieked, still trying to get her feet under her and splashing them more.

 

“Now I’m not the only one with wet trousers, love,” Killian said laughing as he hauled her up and into his chest.  He placed a kiss on the top of her head, “Once you’re done being vexed with me I’ll be on that log over there enjoying what’s left of the respite Roland has given us.”

 

After making sure she was standing steady, and not going to push him bodily into the stream, he walked the short way downstream to a log that had fallen partially into the water.  It would serve as a perfect seat to rest his aching legs even more and still allow the cool water to sooth the painful blisters on his feet.  He hoped that they would reach wherever Roland was leading them by nightfall.  The thought of walking for another day or more had him contemplating asking the others to leave him behind.

 

The sounds of someone moving through the water towards him surprised him.  He thought Emma would make him suffer longer before sitting with him.

 

“May I join you?”

 

Killian turned, surprised further by Roland standing over him.  Their guide had mostly spent his time talking with Thompson or mildly flirting with Emma, much to Killian’s continued annoyance.  He was a genuinely likeable fellow, always smiling and ready for a joke, and answered what questions they had honestly and asked almost none in return.  For all that Killian still couldn’t help letting his jealousy color how he viewed the man.

 

“Sure,” he said with a noncommittal shrug.

 

“Excellent,” Roland smiled widely and stepped over the log to sit at his side. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to agree or not.”

 

“What gave you that impression?” Killian asked as innocently as he could.

 

“I’m no fool,” Roland said pointedly.  He nodded his head upstream,  “You have nothing to worry about from me.  Let me assure you of that right now.”

 

Killian dropped his head a little in shame.  He had been nothing but short with Roland since they first met.  It had been a long time since he’d had a reason to behave like a brute but it seemed he could slip into that attitude quite easily.

 

“Allow me to apologize for my behavior then,” Killian said sincerely as he looked back up to face Roland. “I’ve behaved appallingly and you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

 

“Well, I might have egged you on a bit once I realized that you and Emma are close.  Which was the first night I found your little group, mind you,” Roland said with a grin and a wink. “So if you’re apologizing for your behavior then I must apologize for aggravating it.”

 

He didn’t know whether to be annoyed further or relieved and amused.  With a chuckle he shook his head and went with the latter.  It would be far easier to go forward in good humor than continually stoking resentment.

 

“Now that we’ve gotten past that there’s something I must ask you, Kieran,” Roland said seriously.

 

They had given Roland his alias when introductions were made the day before in an unspoken agreement between them.  The chances of him being recognized were far greater than Emma’s.  Even with his less than princely wardrobe, full beard, and wildly unkempt hair his name was all too uncommon and there was no telling how far and wide his wanted poster had been distributed.

 

“Yes?” Killian asked warily.  He wasn’t sure what Roland wanted to ask but he had a feeling it would be a tricky question to answer.

 

“Is it true?”

 

Roland looked over his shoulder.  Killian followed suit and saw Emma talking with Pinocchio, who was sitting on the bank with only his right foot in the water.  Thompson was further upstream seemingly judging their position against the sun if Killian was reading into his movements right.  By looking at them Killian couldn’t gather where the awe in Roland’s voice had come from or the wary hope in his eyes.

 

“Is what true, mate, because I have no bloody clue what you’re talking about,” Killian said with a forced laugh, as though it would deflect any attention from whatever Roland was trying to say.

 

“That she’s back to end it once and for all,” Roland leaned in and lowered his voice. “The prophecy said the daughter of Snow White and her prince would return on her twenty-eighth birthday and save us.”

 

“Prophecy?” Killian’s blood had run cold at the mention of Emma’s parents but his confusion over the rest of what Roland had said had won out. “What prophecy?”

 

“The one made by the Dark One to Queen Snow and Prince James themselves,” Roland said slowly, as though Killian was being deliberately obtuse. “The Savior named Emma by her mother and accepted as such by the Dark One.”

 

“I hate to break it to you mate but Emma is just Emma, short for Emmalyn,” Killian made up quickly with an apologetic shrug.  He hoped the thoughts furiously flying through his head didn’t show on his face, “Her village was one of many destroyed by the Queen, as were the rest of ours.  We seek nothing but a chance to right was had been done wrong to so many.”

 

“But,” Roland hesitated and looked back at Emma. “I thought for sure…”

 

“You said the prophecy said this ‘savior’ would return on her twenty-eighth birthday?” Killian waited for Roland’s slow nod before turning to call back to Emma. “Swan!  When’s your birthday, love?”

 

Emma looked up at him in surprise and suspicion.  She glanced at Pinocchio.

 

“Not for another three months, Jones,” she called back.

 

“And how old will you be turning?” He asked even as he saw Roland’s shoulders begin to slump in disappointment.

 

“Planning on throwing me a party with squirrels and deer as the guests?” She shot back.

 

“Humor me.”

 

“Twenty-seven if Regina or her guards haven’t killed me first.  What about you, sailor?”

 

Killian chuckled, “The day of my birth is even further away than yours, love.  No need to go in a panic about what an appropriate gift will be.”

 

Rolling her eyes at him she turned back to Pinocchio.  Killian shook his head grinning.  He hadn’t known when her birthday was and it seemed he would be the one panicking about what to give her to mark the occasion.

 

His grin faded as he turned back to Roland.  The man looked utterly defeated.  Killian could tell he had put all his hopes on Emma being the one the so called prophecy spoke of.  The names might have been the same but the circumstances were not.  Roland’s disappointment did not lessen the fact that a ball of anxiety had settled in his stomach.

 

“If the prophecy was made to Queen Snow and Prince James how has it spread beyond them?  I would think they would want to keep it to themselves or between only their most trusted friends,” Killian mused as he pulled his feet from the water, propping them on a dry branch.

 

“It’s rumored that there was a guard who heard it as well.  No one took notice of him as royalty is wont to do with their inferiors,” Roland said it with no malice but Killian winced all the same. “When Regina retook the throne and Princess Emma disappeared word of the prophecy began to spread.  It’s been whispered among the rebels and their allies ever since.”

 

Roland looked back at Emma squinting, as though he could will her into fulfilling the prophecy.  Killian let him.  There was not much he could say that wouldn’t either give them away or cause Roland to be suspicious and start digging for the truth.

 

“And what of the princess?” Killian asked, unable to help himself. “Any rumor of where she might be hiding?”

 

“Some say she’s dead but that’s coming from those fools loyal to Regina.  Others say she’s living as her mother did, a bandit in the woods.  Personally I think she’s in another kingdom under the protection of their king or queen.  Queen Snow had many allies and Princess Emma could easily be gathering an army and planning her return.  In fact, I’m sure of it.  She’d come back with legions of soldiers behind her, ready to fight.  No offense but the most you seem ready for is a place to lay your head that doesn’t involve removing stones from underneath you in the middle of the night.”

 

Killian laughed, relieved that Roland had done the job of convincing himself that Emma couldn’t be the Savior.

 

“Too true, mate.  I wouldn’t say no to a nice, hot mug of tea either,” Killian said hopefully.  He bent down to wring the water from his trousers, “Or perhaps something a bit stronger.”

 

“There’s all of that and a bit more back at our, er, hide-out as it were,” Roland said ducking his head. “Although if you’re looking for anything more than a few extra blankets and tents you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

 

“I’d be happy to not have to spend a good portion of my night on watch and spend the rest of it trying to stay alert while also trying to get some sleep.  Anything else will be a luxury I assure you.”

 

“Then luxury awaits,” Roland stood. “Be ready to leave soon.  If your feet hold up we’ll be there before sunset.”

 

“I assure you they will,” Killian said with a nod. “Just the promise of a stiff drink is enough to motivate me to continue.”

 

“It’s enough to motivate me as well.  We happened to come across a delivery for the sheriff that included several casks of top notch whisky.  It was a pity that he ended up with our empty ones instead,” Roland gave him a wide grin before sauntering back upstream.

 

His trousers were still damp an hour after they had started walking again, increasing the discomfort he felt as he walked.  Emma wisely didn’t say anything but he could read her ‘it’s your own fault’ in the smiles she kept sending him.  He refrained from complaining out loud as his pain was bearable at the moment. Pinocchio’s limp, on the other hand, had become more pronounced causing him to list from side to side as he walked.

 

After another hour it was clear that Pinocchio wouldn’t be able to go much further.  He was trailing a substantial distance behind them despite how slowly they walked to accommodate him.  Emma kept glancing back worriedly and Roland kept checking the position of the sun as often as he scanned the woods around them.  Killian had felt the blister on his right heel burst a half an hour before and was fighting back a grimace every time he stepped on that foot.  Only Thompson seemed unaffected but Killian had seen him sigh in relief as their pace had continued to slow.

 

Roland stopped walking suddenly.  Emma had to jump back to avoid colliding with him and Killian had to step back to keep from doing the same.  Unfortunately he stepped squarely on his right heel and the bright flare of pain caused him to miss the beginning of what Roland was saying.

 

“...by nightfall.”

 

“We can make it!  You just said it wasn’t that far!” Emma said indignantly.

 

“It isn’t but Pinocchio can barely walk and Kieran is barely any better,” Roland pointed out.

 

Killian frowned thinking he had done a decent job of hiding his injury.  Emma looked at him and a flash of guilt crossed her features as she glanced down at him balancing on the ball of his right foot and gingerly bearing down on his left.  He tried to give her a reassuring smile but knew it came off as more of an apologetic grimace.

 

“What do you suggest we do then?” Emma huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

 

“I hate to sound cruel and I don’t mean anything by it but Keiran and Pinocchio should remain here.  We can go ahead, gain back the ground we’ve lost, and reach the camp in two or three hours.  If luck is on our side there will be a wagon and we can make it back before the sun sets,” Roland gestured to the sun, which had already started its descent towards the horizon.

 

“You’re right it does sound cruel.  We’re just going to leave them here and hope for the best?  What if we don’t make it back in time?  We should just rest and then keep going until we can’t,” Emma said hotly.

 

“Either way we’re spending another night in these woods,” Thompson pointed out. “We’ll make better time if we get that wagon and you know it.”

 

“He’s right Emma,” Killian said gently, seeing her opening her mouth to argue further. “Roland’s plan is our best option.  Pinocchio can’t keep up and no matter how long we rest he’ll just fall behind again.  I’m not faring much better.”

 

He was loathe to admit it but there was no denying that he wouldn’t be able to go much further without risking injuring himself more and laying himself up for multiple days as consequence.

 

“What if-”

 

“Not an option, love,” he said quickly cutting her off from suggesting what he was sure to be an offer to use her magic. “It wouldn’t be of any help to Pinocchio in any case.”

 

Emma and Roland frowned at him, the former because she knew he was right and the latter because it seemed he had lost the thread of the conversation.  Killian was saved from trying to explain himself by the arrival of Pinocchio.  With a groan of pain he practically fell to the forest floor.  He was dripping with sweat and held his left leg stiffly out in front of him.

 

“Have you convinced her yet?” Pinocchio asked breathing hard.

 

“What?” Emma asked indignantly, turning to him.

 

“I’m lame not deaf, Em,” he said leaning back against the nearest tree. “All of them are right and you’re wasting time arguing about it.  The faster you go the sooner you’ll be back.  I doubt either Kieran or I will be willing to walk far for firewood so be sure to bring some in that wagon.”

 

Pinocchio closed his eyes and tipped his head to rest against the trunk supporting him.  Killian took it as his sign that everything was decided.  He sank to the ground next to Pinocchio with a wince and blew out a relieved breath.  To further his point he slung his pack in front of him and propped his feet up on it.  As much as he wanted to remove his boots and socks he didn’t.  Emma wouldn’t have hesitated to heal his injuries once she caught sight of them, exposing her magic.

 

“That’s it?  Discussion over?” Emma threw up her hands in defeat.

 

“Like he said, love,” Killian tipped his head at Pinocchio, “you’re wasting time.  We know there’s nothing dangerous in these woods.  Even if there were we can defend ourselves if needed.”

 

“But…”

 

Emma trailed off and suddenly he could see why she was fighting so hard.  She was scared to leave them.  Not for them but for herself.  He wondered if by going on without Pinocchio it would be the first time she would be without the comfort of travelling with someone who had known her all her life.

 

Pinocchio seemed to have reached the same conclusion, “It’s okay, Em.  It’ll only be a few hours and you’ll come back here to find Kieran and I sharing embarrassing stories about you.”

 

Emma huffed out a shaky laugh.   She looked at the two of them.  A frown turned down her lips and she shook her head once.

 

“I’m staying too.”

 

“Emma.”

 

“Swan.”

 

She turned to Roland, “Do you need three of us to get the wagon?”

 

“Not really-”

 

“Is your father expecting us?”

 

“No but-”

 

“Then I’m staying,” Emma crossed her arms and stared at Roland, as if daring him to force her to go.

 

“I don’t know, my lady,” Roland said warily but glancing up at the sky once more.

 

“You’re not going to convince her to come along no matter how pretty you make your words, Roland,” Thompson said with a hint of amusement. “She’s as stubborn as a bull as wily as a fox.  She’ll have you believing it was all your idea for her to remain behind if you keep at it.”

 

“I’m not sure if I should be thanking you or punching you in the face,” Emma mused.

 

“Preferably the first one if I have a choice,” Thompson said with a grin. “Let’s go, the day is wasting.”

 

Roland looked between all of them apparently at a loss for words.  Killian didn’t realize how closely he and his companions had become until there was an outsider in their midst.  He was almost relieved that Roland would be leaving them for a few hours, they needed to get their story straight for when they told it to Robin and his men.

 

They stayed mostly quiet for a quarter of an hour after Thompson and Roland had departed.  Pinocchio had fallen asleep, his hand still gripping his knee tight even as the rest of him relaxed.  Emma was pacing in front of them.  The ground under her feet was beginning to wear down to a path that marked her progress.

 

“Swan, sit down.  You’ll only wear yourself out and defeat the purpose of staying behind,” Killian pointed out, reaching his hand out to her.

 

“I didn’t stay to rest, Jones,” Emma snapped.

 

He dropped his hand.  It felt as if she blamed him for having to remain behind and it stung all the more because it was true.  Between Pinocchio’s leg and his torn up feet they had added another day to their travels, one that they didn’t know if they could afford or not.

 

Frowning to himself he focused instead on finally removing his boots.  The sharp pain from his right heel dropped to a dull throb as he worked the leather gently off his foot.  His sock was soaked in sweat, blood, and whatever liquid the blister had contained.  He pulled it down gingerly but couldn’t help the grunt of pain as it stuck to his wound.  Steeling himself with a deep breath he wrenched it off his foot quickly gritting his teeth against the pain and feeling sweat pop out on his forehead.  He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn’t have to repeat the experience with his left foot.

 

“Oh, Killian!”

 

Emma’s soft cry caused him to look up at her.  She was looking at his foot which he had yet to look at himself.  Judging by her look of horror and sorrow he knew it wouldn’t be good.

 

At first sight it wasn’t.  His foot was pale and his blood had smeared across the arch from the heel painting a gruesome tableau.  The heel was rubbed raw and bright red but as he carefully inspected it closer it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had initially thought.  A soothing poultice, some willow bark, and a day or two of rest would have it on the mend.  He was startled by Emma dropping to her knees and reaching her hand towards his foot, her palm already glowing.

 

“No, Swan, you can’t,” Killian said quickly, jerking his foot back and hissing in pain.

 

“What?  Killian they’re gone,” Emma said confused.

 

“It’s not that, love,” he said, extending his foot back carefully once he was sure she wouldn’t try to heal him. “It would be suspicious if I could barely walk when they left and then ready for another three day trek when they come back.”

 

“You’d rather suffer than let them know I have magic?” She asked skeptically and with a hint of annoyance.

 

“I’d rather spend a few days in discomfort than risk showing our hand too soon.  Trust me, it looks worse than it is,” he smiled as he wiggled his toes.

 

“You know you don’t show a lot of trust in others for someone who just told me to do just that,” she said sitting back on her heels.

 

“It’s good to be wary in new situations,” he said as he bent to remove his other boot. “You’re hardly a new situation, Swan.”

 

“I don’t remember you being so wary when I was batting my eyelashes at you over that table in Tuiscint,” Emma quipped with a smirk.

 

“A man would have to be blind to not be swayed into a sense of security in your presence, love,” he shot her a grin before focusing back on his left foot. “Ah, not as bad but if you’d be so kind as to pass me the herbs in Pinocchio’s pack and the flask he’s stowed away in there as well.  Wouldn’t do to let infection set in.”

 

“If you’d just let me heal you,” Emma said exasperated.

 

“I’m just as stubborn as you so there’s no use arguing with me about it.  I am, however, not a fool so the herbs and the flask if you please.”

 

“You’re still a fool and an idiot too,” Emma grumbled reaching for Pinocchio’s pack.

 

“Aye, but a devilishly handsome one at that.”

 

Together they cleaned and bandaged his foot.  Emma made a trip to the nearby stream to refill their water skeins.  They talked of Roland’s appearance, speculated on how exactly Thompson knew him, and wondered where they were being led to.  The two things they didn’t discuss where what their plan should be once they reached the Roland’s camp and what parts of their story they would be willing to tell.  They had agreed to wait for Pinocchio to wake to hear what he had to say on the matter.

 

“Swan, are you aware of a prophecy about you?”  Killian asked.

 

It was late in the afternoon.  The sun was dropping below the treeline and its rays were shining directly into his eyes.  Something about it reminded him of Emma’s magic, prompting him to remember Roland’s questions from earlier in the day.

 

“What?” She asked drowsily, her head resting on his left shoulder.

 

“Roland told me of  a prophecy the Dark One made to your parents.  He called you the Savior,” he looked down at her to see her frowning.

 

“I mean I’ve heard rumors of people saying I’ll come back to save them but ‘Savior?” She sat up and shook her head disbelievingly. “Sounds like a story told to kids at night to keep them from giving up hope.”

 

“Roland seems to believe in it and he’s no child,” Killian mused.

 

“Doesn’t make it true,” Emma retorted.  “What exactly did this prophecy say that’s got you worried and believing a man we just met yesterday?”

 

“I never said I believed him,” Killian answered defensively. “Roland said that the prophecy was made by the Dark One to your parents and specifically named you as the Savior that would return when you turned twenty-eight and save everyone from the evil in this land.”

 

“Is that why you asked me when my birthday is?” She asked amused.

 

“Well, yes,” Killian answered with a shrug, beginning to feel embarrassed.

 

“Obviously the prophecy isn’t real since we’re months from my birthday and more than a year from it being the twenty eighth one.  Who told it to him?”

 

She clearly wasn’t taking what he’d told her seriously.  Her lips were twitching in a grin that threatened to grow wider and her eyes were twinkling with mirth.  He could see the absurdity in his words but the details were too specific to be a mere coincidence.  It was only the disparity in her age from the prophecy that allowed him to begin to smile with her.  The continued niggle of worry at the back of his mind was easy to ignore as she shook her head in amusement.

 

“He didn’t say who told him but apparently it spread from a guard who overheard the prophecy being made.”

 

“Still sounds like a story told to kids,” Emma scoffed, “and don’t you think my parents would have mentioned something to me?  Or that I would have heard something in all the years I’ve been on the run or captaining the Brooke?”

 

“Perhaps you’re right,” Killian conceded.

 

“Of course I am,” Emma gave him a full grin. “We should really wake up Pinocchio.  They could be back any time.”

 

Pinocchio woke reluctantly and angrily when Emma started tapping his right leg with her toe.  After Killian sheepishly passed him his flask and the water skein they began to talk about what exactly to say to Roland, Robin and the rest of the Merry Men.  They decided to keep their story simple based off of what Killian had already told Roland, that they were refugees from villages that the Queen had attacked and had escaped to Arendelle.  Their return to Misthaven was because they had decided that they wanted to do something for their kingdom and not sit idly by while the Queen continued to rule.  The only problem they could foresee with that story would be if Thompson had told a different one to Roland on their journey.  There was nothing for it until Thompson returned.

 

As for a plan they came up with nothing better than waiting to see what kind of allies they would make of the Merry Men.  If they were trustworthy and willing to fight beside them they would get word to Red and Granny to join them.  If not they would continue on and hope that they could avoid the Queen’s guards and the Queen herself.

 

Killian felt as though something and yet nothing had been accomplished.  Everything would be determined by how they were received and the decisions made by others.  Emma had sent a short message to Elsa and Red that stated nothing more than they were alive.  She had sent it off with a frown and he knew that she wanted to say more but couldn’t.

 

The sun was minutes away from sinking below the horizon when the sound of voices reached them.  From what he could tell there couldn’t have been more than four or five men approaching them.  He could also hear the soft clopping of hooves on the forest floor and the weary creaking of wooden wheels along with it.  It wasn’t long before he spotted the source of the noise and only realized he had gone tense when he relaxed upon seeing Thompson and Roland among the faces of the men coming towards them, a mule drawn wagon trailing behind.

 

There were three men with them all older but living up to their moniker by approaching them with wide smiles and jaunty waves.  The man leading the group was smiling the widest, causing the wrinkles around his eyes to deepen.  His hair was a steely grey with streaks of lighter grey through it and he had a short beard of a somewhat brownish color.  Killian could easily tell that the man was Roland’s father, even without their similarities his obvious leadership of the men marked him as such.

 

“Ho there!” Robin called out genially to them.

 

“Ahoy!” Killian called in return, earning an eyeroll from both Emma and Pinocchio.

 

“I didn’t quite believe Roland when he said sailors were trampling through our woods but now I can see why he was so certain.  Forgive me but you would have had an easier time at one of the villages near the water than where you’ve found yourself.”

 

Robin spoke with an accent that wasn’t dissimilar from Killian’s.  It went a long way in explaining Roland’s odd accent but also brought up more questions as to what Robin’s origins were.  More unknowns that could affect their mission.

 

“It’s not the woods, it’s getting reacquainted with our land legs that’s causing us trouble,” Killian said ruefully gesturing at his bandaged foot and Pinocchio’s stiff leg.

 

Robin laughed heartily, his men joining him.  One was tall, taller than any man had a right to be, and solid, as though he had been formed from a boulder and brought to life.  He appeared to be the same age as Robin but there were only a few wisps of grey amongst the dark brown curls.  The other man was wiry and gave off an air of nonchalance but Killian could see him assessing the situation quickly and efficiently.  He too appeared to be around Robin’s age with salt and pepper hair and the beginnings of deep wrinkles around his mouth and forehead indicative of a man used to frowning.

 

“You must be Kieran.  Jon warned us about your wit, although he called it something else,” Robin said once his laughter died down. “I’m Robin, this gentle giant is Little John, and the bastard over there is Will Scarlet.”

 

“Oy!” Will exclaimed.

 

There was another volley of laughter from the men.  It was clearly a well loved jab at Will.  He seemed to hold no offence for it and even Thompson was grinning, in on the joke.

 

“Since you seem to know who I am allow me to introduce my other companions.  Although I suspect you already know their names too,” Killian said feeling a little foolish addressing Robin from the ground.  He clapped Pinocchio on the shoulder, “This is Pinocchio, just as lamed up as me but with half the charm, and the lovely lass standing guard at our feet is Emma.  She might appear fierce but let me assure you that her bite is far worse than her bark.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Emma spun around to look down at him, annoyance written all over her face.  Killian merely smiled back.  She had jumped up as soon as they heard Robin and the group approaching and he had seen her muscles tightening with tension like the string of a lute being twisted one two many times around its tuning pegs.  His slight jab had had its intended effect, she was still wary but no longer ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Robin said gallantly with a short bow.

 

“It’s just Emma,” she said with a sigh.

 

“Well, just Emma,” Robin said with a hint of amusement, “I’ve brought our version of a horse and carriage but we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to begin our journey.  For now we’ve also brought wood and food that hasn’t been sitting around in a ship’s hold for months on end.”

 

Killian laughed.  Little John and Will seemed to take it as a signal and went to the wagon and began removing items.  Soon a fire was built and they were drinking from a small cask of wine as their meal cooked.  The conversation was kept light, almost frivolous in light of the fact that both parties were well aware of why the other was there.  It both annoyed and set Killian at ease that no serious discussion would be made.  At least not until everyone felt comfortable with their situation.

 

It wasn’t until they were getting ready to settle for the night that Killian had an opportunity to talk to Thompson.  In discrete whispers Thompson told him that he had shared nothing of their tale aside from confirming that they were sailors and had come from the north.  Robin had only needed minor convincing and had been more interested in hearing what Thompson had been doing since he’d last seen him.  Killian had questioned him sharply but Thompson assured him that he hadn’t told anything close to the truth, only that Killian’s father had taken him in and they had been friends since.  Their conversation was cut short when Roland walked up to tell them what hours they would be on watch.

 

Killian didn’t get much sleep.  The sounds of four extra bodies with them disrupted the quiet he’d grown used to in the woods.  Little John’s snoring was only partly to blame though.  There was something about the way Robin had avoided talking about anything of substance, even when there were clear opportunities to do so, that had him on edge.  He knew once Robin had whatever grasp he needed on the situation the questions would fly fast and hard.

 

He was awake when the rest of the camp started stirring an hour after dawn.  Even with his injured foot he had stoked up the fire and set up water to boil.  He wasn’t sure if Robin had brought any kind of tea leaves with him but he was operating on the hope that he had.

 

“Did you sleep at all?” Emma mumbled as she came up to his side by the fire.

 

“A bit here and there,” he said tiredly, running a hand down his face.  His beard had grown to the point of being a bit unruly and he stroked it a few times to try and tame it. “I promise you it wasn’t because of distrust this time.”

 

Emma snorted and held her hands over the fire, crouching down to get closer, leaning against his leg.  He was seated on one of the logs Little John had dragged over the night before.  They sat quietly as the others stretched and disappeared into various points in the woods to relieve themselves.  Robin was the first to return and join them at the fire.

 

“We’ll leave as soon as we eat and erase any sign that we’ve been here.  Lord Guy has been increasing the patrols in the forest.”

 

“Lord Guy?” Killian asked in disbelief looking quickly at Thompson.

 

“He’s done well since the Queen retook the throne and Lord John has been part of her council,” Robin said following his gaze. “It has been wonderful to see Jon again but I’m afraid he’s put himself at great risk by returning to Sherwood.”

 

“How exactly do you know him?”

 

Emma asked the question that had been sitting on Killian’s own tongue.  He had wanted to ask Thompson himself but wondered if he’d get a straighter answer from Robin.

 

“Jon’s never been anything like his father.  Even when he was a boy he found ways to sneak us food and provisions from his father’s estate.  He and Roland were great friends once.  It broke all of our hearts when we thought he died,” Robin sighed and looked back at them. “Lord Guy said it was illness but we believed it to be murder for how quickly he disappeared.  We were overjoyed when he came strolling into our camp with Roland as though nothing were amiss.”

 

“If nothing else comes of us meeting then I am glad that you’ve discovered the truth about what happened to him,” Killian said earnestly.

 

“It has answered some old questions but only made way for new ones,” Robin said pointedly, looking at Killian longer than he did Emma. “But first some breakfast and getting on our way.  It won’t do do tarry here much longer.”

 

Their meal was small but delicious and Robin had indeed brought tea leaves with him.  They ate quickly.  Those that could move about freely doused the flames and broke apart the camp so it appeared as though no one had disturbed the forest in any way.  Emma helped Killian hobble to the wagon while Thompson helped Pinocchio settle into the back.  He was about to climb in himself when Robin called to him from his seat on the driver’s box.

 

“Join me up here, Kieran.  It’ll be more comfortable for you and Pinocchio both and you can stow your packs there instead of carrying them on your backs.”

 

Robin was watching him expectantly and he knew that the time had come for an interrogation.  Killian couldn’t have planned it better himself.  He would be alone with Robin, Pinocchio wouldn’t be able to hear much over the sounds of the moving wagon, and the others wouldn’t be close enough to hear anything.

 

Killian gave Robin a word of thanks and awkwardly joined him.  They set off soon after and as Killian suspected the others fell slightly behind and Pinocchio bent over the journal Killian had seen him writing in back in Senlikli.

 

“It’s not often we have travellers through our woods that are explicitly seeking an audience with us,” Robin started genially. “In fact the last time someone sought our help was the first time the Queen sat on the throne.  They were supporters of Queen Snow back then.  Whom are you supporting now?”

 

“We support no one but ourselves at the moment,” Killian said somewhat truthfully. “We had hoped that you would be willing to join us or if not be able to point us in the direction of those that are.”

 

Robin hummed, nodding his head, “We do tend to have a reputation when it comes to undermining authority I’ll give you that.  It’s not often that we engage in rebellion beyond our own borders, though.”

 

“You say that Lord Guy has only prospered since the Queen has retaken the throne.  His prosperity is tied directly to the machinations of what goes on outside the borders of Sherwood.  Every single kingdom, whether they are allies of Misthaven or not have been affected by the Queen’s tyrannic rule.”

 

Killian stopped himself, breathing hard.  Robin was already causing him to forget himself.

 

“True, true,” Robin said, seemingly to himself. “We haven’t suffered as much as the people of Misthaven proper but we haven’t been ignored either.  King Richard is old and his heir was captured by the Queen’s guards and imprisoned in her dungeons.  Lord John will inherit it all upon King Richard’s death.”

 

“You call him king then?” Killian asked, encouraged.

 

“He has earned the title more than the usurper to the throne the Queen has earned hers.  Although we still called him that when Queen Snow was ruler of Misthaven for those seventeen years of peace.”

 

Killian held his breath.  If Robin held the same beliefs as his son it was an ideal time to bring up the prophecy or merely question if Emma was truly Princess Emma.  Instead Robin flicked the reins and caused the mule to speed up to an amble.

 

“Tell me, why do you really seek our help?”  Robin asked, eying him carefully.

 

“We’ve been on the run for far longer than we wished to be,” Killian sighed, trying to sound sincere. “We want to return to the land we call home and restore Misthaven to its rightful rulers.  Our only hope is that there are others who wish to do the same.”

 

“But Misthaven is not your home, is it?” Robin asked casually, still watching him.

 

“I don’t- of course it is or it was!” Killian spluttered, his heart picking up speed.

 

“Misthaven is no more your home than the deck of a ship is mine,” Robin reached into the pack at his feet and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. “We may not concern ourselves with dealings outside our borders but it does not mean we’re unaware of them.”

 

Robin handed him the parchment.  He unrolled it with shaking hands, well aware that Robin hadn’t taken his eyes off him.  The first thing he saw was that it was a wanted poster, declaring itself in big bold letters across the top.  The second was that he was staring down at a drawing of himself.  It was almost an exact likeness to his royal portrait, only missing his naval uniform and the circlet that should have been sitting atop his head.  The third thing he noticed was that reward for his capture was substantial, enough to keep several families from starving.

 

It was a relief to realize that he was going to be the one the Merry Men would scrutinize and judge.  He had been so preoccupied with wondering how they would protect Emma and her true identity that he had forgotten to be guarding his own.  Robin must have known who he was long before he set sights on him.

 

“You’re certain this is me?  Or do you accuse any stranger you come across of being a murderer?” Killian asked flippantly, frantically trying to get a read on Robin’s intent with him.

 

“I had my suspicions when Jon came back.  Seeing you, however, convinced me,” Robin looked away over his shoulder.  He reigned back the mule to a slower pace. “Your hair is longer and that beard is a nice touch but there’s no mistaking it, Your Highness.”

 

Killian bristled at the title, “Do the others know?”

 

“If they did do you think I’d be talking to you as I am now?” Robin laughed. “I’m the one that helped to ensure that Jon was able to escape his father.  I sent King Brennan a letter a week before Jon appeared before him.  I’ve kept an ear out for news of him since: his name change, his rising through the ranks of Balliolshire’s Navy, and his close friendship with Prince Killian.  Not even his own father knows as much about him as I do.”

 

“Then why are you keeping up with this farce?” Killian asked, reeling from what he’d been told.

 

“You saw the amount of gold they’re offering for your capture.  My men are loyal but when we get to where we’re going there are a lot more people than just my men.  It’s easier to keep an identity hidden when less people know the truth,” Robin gently pulled the poster from his hands. “This isn’t the only one I’ve seen but you’re in luck, the people pay even less attention to wanted posters than they do to Friar Tuck’s sermons.”

 

Killian ignored Robin’s attempt at a joke,“What makes you believe that the accusations are false?  That I haven’t killed my father and have been on the run since?”

 

“If you’d truly killed your father you wouldn’t actually be on the run.  You’d be in the Queen’s castle enjoying her hospitality and trying to plot the murder of your brother.  From what I understand you’ve never wanted to be king,” Robin passed him the reins and proceeded to roll up the parchment. “I also doubt Jon or the other two would want to travel with a known murderer.”

 

“From what I’ve heard I was seen entering my father’s chambers and leaving him dead when I left.  You dispute that as well?”

 

“There are ways to change your appearance without using magic,” Robin said cryptically, a dark look crossing his face. “It goes to explain how you weren’t seen leaving the castle immediately after it happened.”

 

Killian hadn’t known that.  He had assumed that whoever had killed his father had used his image to get as far as he could before going into hiding.  The possibility that there was someone out there who could change his appearance at will caused a shudder to roll down his spine.

 

They continued on in silence.  Every once in awhile someone would walk along beside them to grab a water skein or to make idle conversation.  Emma appeared at his elbow more often than the others but neither one of them could say much with Robin at his side.  She seemed to sense that he was at odds with himself and as the afternoon wore on she stayed longer and longer by his side.

 

While he couldn’t talk he could damn well try to think his way through what Robin had told him.  It was clear he had to trust that Robin wouldn’t betray him.  There was nowhere he could go, lamed up as he was and in the middle of a forest that Robin and his men probably knew like the backs of their hands.  He would never abandon Emma as it was so running was out of the question.

 

The longer he let his thoughts circle the more it became clear that he had no choice but to continue on as before.  His outed identity meant that he had an advantage and he intended to use it.  They had wondered how exactly they were going to convince Robin and his men to join them without divulging who Emma truly was.  With Robin knowing that he was the wanted prince their mission became that much easier to explain.  By using his own story as motivation Robin’s attention would be focused on him and away from any questions he could have about Emma and Pinocchio.  It was a stroke of luck they desperately needed.

 

“You’ve come to a decision then,” Robin said with a smile.

 

“I- how did you know?” Killian asked surprised.

 

“I’ve been an outlaw for a long time and have asked countless men and women to join me in my crusade against the tyranny that overruns our land,” Robin looked sideways at him. “There’s always a moment where they choose to stand with us, to trust us, and I can see it in their eyes.  I saw it in yours.”

 

“I don’t wish to join your men,” Killian pointed out.

 

“No, but you would like our help and for that you need to trust that we will.”

 

“Will you?” Killian watched Robin closely. “Help us, I mean?”

 

“I can’t answer that now.  You may have decided to trust me but I have not made up my mind about you quite yet,” Robin said, not unkindly.  Killian opened his mouth to argue and Robin held up his hand to stop him, “That’s not to say I don’t believe you or the cause you’re fighting for but you’re asking me to put the lives of people who have no stake in your fight at risk.  I know nothing of you aside from your lineage and your innocence.  I need more if I’m going to commit myself and my people to you.”

 

“That’s… fair I suppose,” Killian said slowly, knowing that Robin was right but annoyed at the possibility of time lost trying to gain his trust.

 

“Don’t worry, lad,” Robin said with a laugh, “you and Pinocchio will be recovering for a few days at least and from the weariness I saw in Jon and Emma they’ll be happy for the rest as well.  It’ll give us a chance to know eachother better.”

 

“Aye, I guess it will,” Killian conceded.

 

“Good,” Robin nodded succinctly. “It’s a good thing we’ve reached an understanding because we’re here.”

 

Killian looked ahead as Robin turned the wagon left.  He saw nothing in front of him but an outcropping of rocks breaking apart the forest floor.  A closer look revealed that they marked what appeared to be the lip of a gully.  As Robin steered the wagon alongside Killian realized he could hear voices and laughter floating up from the unseen bottom.  Soon they were heading down a steep path, barely wide enough for the wagon to use and as the sheer rock walls loomed overhead he decided ravine was a more fitting description.

 

They reached the bottom without incident.  The sounds of people gathered were louder, echoing off the stone and making it sound as though hundreds of people were awaiting their arrival.

 

It was only a few minutes before the camp came into view, hidden from immediate sight by fallen boulders and turns in the ravine.  They had found what was possibly the widest part of the ravine floor, the Jewel could easily be set down and not have her stem or stern touching the rock.  There were numerous tents set up that continued further than Killian could see from his seat in the wagon.  While there weren’t hundreds of people to greet them there was still a shocking amount, nearly thirty that he could see milling about and countless more that he couldn’t.  Roland had greatly undersold the true size of the camp.

 

“We may be outlaws but we’re hardly barbarians,” Robin said proudly, bringing the wagon to a stop.

 

“How have you not been discovered?” Killian asked amazed.

 

“We’re deep enough in the woods that the Sheriff and his men don’t bother and if needed we can break camp quickly and use the ravine to escape.  We haven’t needed to in a year or so but we can do it if necessary,” Robin turned in his seat and Killian watched him motion to Emma and Thompson to join them. “Consider yourselves our guests, fill your bellies with good food and better wine, rest until you become restless, and outfit yourselves for life in the forest.  When the time is right, we’ll discuss what you’ve sought us out for.”

 

“So until then we just, what, laze about?” Emma asked irritably.

 

“Enjoy yourself, my lady,” Robin winked.  Killian looked back at the sea of tents, “and be merry.”


	17. Change of Plans

Killian was sitting in the tent he shared with Emma and others, a book open in his lap that he had given up trying to read, staring unseeing at the words on the page.  Robin had been true to his word, not requiring a thing of them but to make themselves feel at home.  For the first few days he, Emma, and Pinocchio had stayed together to explore what they’d soon discovered was a small village made of tents.  As the days continued to pass they began going about alone, finding ways to fill their time with hobbies that suited them individually.

 

The people of the camp were communal about food and necessities.  Each person had a job to perform and did so gladly but it made it hard for Killian to find something to occupy his time.  Pinocchio had joined the woodworkers, men and women who made bows and arrows, kept the camp fully stocked with firewood, and crafted trinkets and knick knacks to be sold at various markets by family members still living in the villages.  Emma returned to their tent every night with new stories of the people she had met throughout the day and their reasons for living as they did.  She seemed determined to meet everyone.  Killian had to remind himself that they were her subjects and she was eagerly getting to know her kingdom again.

 

He hadn’t seen much of Thompson since they’d arrived.  His cot was empty when Killian woke in the morning and if he returned to their tent at night it was long after they had fallen asleep.  The only time Killian had seen him regularly was at the evening meal sitting by himself at one of the side tables.  Thompson was always finished by the time Killian had his own plate piled high with food and looking for a place to sit.  He pretended that the deliberate avoidance didn’t sting.

 

His own time had been divided between shadowing Robin, telling his fabricated tale to others who might be sympathetic and thus could be easily swayed to his side, and wandering aimlessly through the camp when Robin and his men left for unknown reasons.  They had left the previous morning on the fifth such excursion in the three weeks since Robin had brought them to his camp.  When Killian had requested to join them Robin had refused without even attempting at giving an excuse to placate him.  He was curious as to where they went but not enough to risk upsetting their host by following them.

 

On one of his aimless wanderings through the camp he had been pleased to stumble upon a woman who had once been a teacher and the cache of books she’d been lucky to save from the fire that the Sheriff had set to her house.  The afternoon he met her he discovered there were few children in the camp that kept her occupied but she also spent some of her time writing letters for people who couldn’t.  She had been elated to lend Killian a few of her books, happy that another literate person had joined the camp and desperate to talk to someone new about the books she had.

 

The one he had been trying to read was the tale of two brothers who had overcome their father’s piss poor reputation to become highly honored and valued members of their kingdom’s navy.  He had been enjoying the story as it reminded him of his and Liam’s naval exploits and their more recent voyage on the Jewel but then it had taken an unexpected turn.  The older brother had died as a result of his own hubris while the younger had watched helpless to do anything.  The description of the younger brother’s grief had nearly brought Killian to tears.  He had ceased reading at that point, a strong unexpected ache settling in his chest.

 

“Jones, I just got the best news!” Emma burst into the tent.  She stopped short, he watched her body sway slightly from the momentum. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing, love,” he said shakily, looking up at her with a wan smile.

 

“Then what’s wrong?” She knelt down in front of him and brought her hand to his cheek, her fingers brushing gently across his skin.

 

“It’s nothing, truly,” he said, laughing weakly at his foolishness. “I was reading and it seems the story has gotten the better of me.”

 

“What’s it about?” She asked as she picked the book up from his lap, twisting it so she could look at the pages herself.

 

“A pair of brothers fighting against all odds to become honorable men.  It’s a wonderful tale, I’m enjoying it immensely.”

 

“Then why do you look like you’ve had the wind knocked out of your sails?” She cocked her head to the side to regard him.

 

He sighed, knowing she would get him to tell her eventually. “The older brother was killed, leaving the younger to flounder.  I was picturing Liam and I as the brothers while I read.   The death came as a shock is all.”

 

“You miss him,” Emma said simply.

 

She put the book aside, careful to mark his place, and joined him on his cot.  He draped his arm around her shoulders, taking comfort in their closeness but still feeling a twinge of melancholy.

 

“Aye, I do,” he said quietly.

 

Emma put her arms around his middle, tucking her head under his chin as she hugged him.  He dropped his nose into her hair, breathing her in, and closed his eyes.  She smelled of woodsmoke and sweat, though not unpleasantly.  He wondered if she had been to visit Pinocchio or had gone to the cooking fires on her sojourn through the camp.

 

“Do you want to send him a message?” Emma asked softly.

 

She had started communicating with Elsa the previous week after much discussion.  They had agreed it was safe enough but to only do so in the early morning hours.  Her luminescent birds were harder to spot in daylight and there were fewer people awake to see it flying away.  Elsa’s snowflakes arrived under the cover of darkness for the same reason.

 

“I don’t know, Swan,” he said slowly, uplifted by the prospect but still hesitant. “He wouldn’t be able to respond in kind.”

 

“No,” she agreed, “but he’d get it and know you’re still alive and somewhat safe.  You’d feel better if you did.”

 

“Truly?” He asked skeptically.

 

She pulled away to look at him, “Killian, you looked like you did when you found out your father died.  Think of how relieved Liam will be when he gets a message.  I don’t think he’s heard anything about you since we first got to Arendelle.”

 

He realized she was probably right.  Elsa had been kind enough to let Liam know he’d arrived in her kingdom but most likely hadn’t communicated further.  She had more important matters to contend with than acting as a messenger.

 

“We’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” he said smiling down at her.

 

“Yeah, but it’ll give you time to figure out what you want to tell him,” Emma said.  She nodded at his book, “Are you going to keep reading that?”

 

“Aye, I’m eager to find out how the remaining brother handles himself after such a blow.  There’s still a good portion of the story left and I believe his troubles have only just started,” he mused.

 

“Have any other of Belle’s books been this exciting?” She asked as she leaned away from him to grab the book again.

 

“The first one I read was titled ‘A History of Sherwood and Its Allegiances’.  Interesting but hardly exciting,” he said dryly as she settled back into him and flipped through the pages.

 

“Was she trying to punish you or did you actually pick that one out yourself?” Emma said chuckling.

 

“I happen to find history fascinating, Swan.  Learning from the mistakes and successes of the past tend to make a better ruler,” Killian squeezed her shoulders to make his point.

 

“All I need to know is to not let an insane witch try to kill me for pissing her off once when I was ten,” Emma poked him in the stomach. “The only person who remotely fits that description is Pinocchio who is neither insane or a witch so I’m good there.”

 

“You can joke now, love, but one day you’ll be Queen and find that you know less about history than a common child,” Killian said, shaking his head.

 

“Only if that kid has Belle for a teacher,” Emma scoffed. “Besides, I’ll have you by my side to annoyingly point out when I’m repeating the mistakes of others from the past.”

 

He raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened as Emma blushed.  They hadn’t talked much of their future, at least not beyond defeating the Queen.  His hopes had been that she would want a life with him by her side.  To hear her confirm it was music to his ears but he needed to make sure she meant in the way he was interpreting it.

 

“Perhaps you should have Belle on your council as well.”

 

“I don’t think Will would like that,” Emma paused and her blush deepened, “and I want you with me by my side, not only on my council.”

 

“It would be my honor, Swan,” he said pouring every ounce of truth into his words, looking into her eyes.  Then he latched onto the first thing she’d said, “Wait, what was that about Scarlet?  You did mean that Will, right?”

 

Emma laughed, whether at his question or how effectively he’d broken apart the serious moment he wasn’t sure.

 

“Yeah, that Will.  He’s Belle’s husband.  I thought you would know that considering how much time you’ve spent talking to her.”

 

“About books,” he said defensively, “not about the intricacies of each other’s lives.”

 

“I guess that settles it then,” she snapped the book shut and dropped it on his lap. “You can deal with the boring history and I’ll deal with the interesting people that populate my kingdom.  I’ll even give you a new title like Lord Nose Stuck in a Book or maybe Sir Lost in the Past.  I should mention it to Liam, I’m sure he’s better at coming up with titles than I a- wait, what are you doing!”

 

Emma squealed as he shifted abruptly, pressing her down onto the cot as he hovered above her.

 

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her in warning.

 

“And you’re going to stop me how?  I’m the one with the magic.  I could send it to Balliolshire with just a single thought.”

 

“Not all magic requires spells, love,” he whispered, dipping his head so his lips brushed hers softly as he spoke. “I’ll endeavor to keep your thoughts scattered until that ridiculous notion is out of your head.”

 

He cut her off before she could protest by giving in to his urge to kiss her.  They hadn’t shared a moment where they were truly alone since their last night on the Istapp and none so intimate since they’d revealed their feelings for one another.  The hitch in her breathing succeeded in causing his own thoughts to scatter like dandelion seeds on the wind.

 

It was nearly impossible to remember why they had been taking things slow when her arms pulled him closer and her leg hitched around his hip.  He couldn’t think of a single reason to be a gentleman as she shuddered underneath him as his hand skimmed delicately along the strip of warm skin on her back that he’d exposed when he’d pulled her shirt out from where it had been tucked into her pants.  If someone had asked him his own name at that moment he was certain he wouldn’t have known that either.

 

His hand traveled slowly up her side, both of them moaning at the feather light touch.  Her own hand anchored in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, pulling him ever closer, barely pausing to breathe.  Never, in any of his other numerous dalliances, had he felt like he was drowning and being saved all at once.  Hearing his name alone being spilled breathlessly from her lips was enough to drive him mad.

 

“Jones, Robin is back and he needs to discuss something with you!”

 

Killian barely had time to wrench his hand from underneath Emma’s shirt before Thompson flung back the tent’s flap and ducked inside.  He dropped his forehead onto her collarbone with a groan to escape what he knew would be an amused smirk on Thompson’s face.  Emma shook with laughter as she patted him gently on the shoulder with one hand and attempted to fix his hair with the other.

 

“If there had been a door would you have even bothered to knock?” Emma asked.  He could feel her chin tip up, most likely to peer at Thompson.

 

“Probably not,” Thompson said and Killian could imagine his shrug.

 

“Apologies, Swan,” he said blowing out a breath as he shifted onto his side next to her on the cot, glaring at Thompson who was standing above them, smirking as he’d imagined. “He’s always been a nuisance when it comes to respecting privacy.”

 

“You’re a fool if you expect privacy in this place.  You’d do better to sneak of into the woods like the few youth and many of the adults in this camp do,” Thompson waggled his eyebrows at them and laughed. “Come along lovebirds, I came here for Killian but I’m sure he’ll want to see you too, my lady.”

 

Emma scowled at him.  Her constant complaints about being called a lady only meant Thompson called her that more often.  Killian was merely glad that he’d given up calling either of them ‘your highness’ in private.

 

They sat up and began to make themselves look as though nothing was amiss.  His own shirt had come partially untucked, forcing him to stand to try and awkwardly set it to rights without undoing his trousers.  Emma seemed to have no qualms as she stood up next to him unlacing her trousers with unhurried fingers.  As she tucked in her shirt he wondered just how long it had taken to break her of her princess decorum and allow the pirate to take over.

 

“Do you know what Robin wants?” Killian asked as he ran a hand through his hair to try and tame it.

 

“Not sure, Roland found me and passed along the summons.  There’s a lot of activity in the camp, though, so it must be something big,” Thompson said, his eyes firmly fixed on a point over Killian’s shoulder.  Much like Killian he could talk and act less than gentlemanly but when it came down to it their manners would always win out.

 

“Oh, that’s what I came to tell you about!” Emma said turning to him with her arms raised as her hands fixed her braid. “I was at the cooking fires hoping that I’d be able to sneak some of that tea you like from their supplies-”

 

“Thief,” he teased, shaking his head.

 

“Pirate,” she corrected. “Anyway, things were pretty normal until this man walked up and started talking to Charles.”

 

“The bloke in charge of our meals?” Thompson asked.

 

“Yeah,” Emma said with a tinge of exasperation. “After the man left Charles immediately started rattling off instructions to his crew.  He kept muttering about how they’re running low on potatoes and flour and other stuff.  Then I heard him complain about having more mouths to feed.”

 

She looked at him expectantly with an eager smile.  He didn’t know what she was trying to say and a side glance at Thompson showed him that he was just as mystified.

 

“It appears that the camp is growing larger but why would Robin want to see me about it?”

 

“Because it’s Red,” she said triumphantly, clapping her hands in front of her and bouncing on her toes.

 

“Red?  Your first mate and godmother?  That Red?” Killian asked bluntly.  His surprise had robbed him of putting the question gently.

 

“Yes, that Red,” she answered, her smile dimming and annoyance flashing in her eyes. “I thought you’d be a little happier than this.”

 

“You do know this is supposed to be a secret camp right?  That everything these people have sacrificed depends on no one knowing that they’re here?  Did you give her a map or just tell her to traipse through the woods until someone went to collect her?” Thompson asked sounding incredulous and angry.

 

“I ordered her to anchor the Brooke at the first port she was able to and then wait there,” Emma bit back. “Why do you think Robin’s been gone more often this last week?  I told him they were key people for us to have on our side and would be waiting.  I made sure to tell him it was up to him if they could join us or not.  I’m not an idiot, Thompson.”

 

“Was Robin suspicious about how you knew she’d be there?” Killian asked carefully.

 

“A little but I told him we had sent a letter for her to sail to Sherwood once we landed here ourselves.  Which is true in a way.  I was careful, Killian.”

 

She said it fiercely and he realized that she had been hurt by his lack of joy at the news.  He stepped up to her and tucked a lock of hair she’d missed behind her ear.

 

“I don’t doubt that, love, but next time a little warning, eh?  We’re treading on dangerous ground even if we feel quite safe.  Although, I will admit having Red with us here will do much to put my mind at ease,” he said truthfully and was rewarded with a genuine smile.

 

Thompson cleared his throat, “Shall I get Pinocchio, then?  Make this happy reunion complete?”

 

“No, I’ll get him.  You two need to meet with Robin and Pinocchio will at least smile when I tell him that Red is here,” Emma winked and he knew that she was merely teasing.

 

“If I promise to smile upon seeing Red will I be forgiven?” He asked in a low voice, teasing her a bit himself.

 

“Perhaps,” she said coyly, “but don’t expect us to pick up where we left off, sailor.”

 

Killian groaned low in his throat.  He usually admired her bold tactics, at least the ones he’d seen so far, but it was a distraction he didn’t need moments before he was to meet with Robin.  Thompson cleared his throat pointedly once more and he reluctantly stepped back from Emma.

 

“Let’s go, then,” he said to Thompson.

 

They parted ways outside the tent with Emma giving him a kiss on his cheek.  He knew he was sporting a ridiculous grin but not even Thompson’s presence could quell it..

 

“Seems things have progressed with the lass,” Thompson said in a conversational tone as they walked.

 

“In a way,” Killian said reluctantly.

 

He wasn’t entirely comfortable talking with Thompson about Emma.  Even before the fallout from Hewitt’s death he had been reticent to share what he was feeling for Emma with anyone.  Thompson’s continued avoidance of him had made him even more wary of what his former friend would think.

 

“Look, I’ve had a lot of time to think these past weeks and I’ve spent too much of it blaming the wrong people, mainly you,” Thompson caught him by the arm and pulled him in between two tents, out of the way of other people who were walking around them. “You didn’t kill her. I know that, I’ve known that, but it took me a while to see it.

 

“You may not have killed her but you still lied and hid things from me Killian.  And it wasn’t just about Swan, that I could have understood after Jacqueline, but your secrets and hers have gotten good people killed.

 

“I’m done fighting you but I don’t know if I can forgive you.  At least not yet, but I’ll be by your side as always.  The winds are changing and we need to be ready.”

 

“We do,” Killian said, all other words lost to him.

 

In the weeks of pointed silence or limited but terse words from Thompson he’d almost forgotten the familiar cadence of his speech and the way he wouldn’t hold back his thoughts no matter what the subject.  Killian hadn’t expected an apology, he still felt as though he didn’t deserve one when nightmares about Hewitt’s death and Thompson’s despair still plagued him.  Knowing that they could move forward as allies if not friends was more than enough for him.

 

Thompson nodded once before stepping back into the flow of people walking past the tents.  There would be no hugs of reconciliation, no pats on the back for encouragement, but still Killian felt as though a piece of his world had shifted back into place as he followed in Thompson’s wake.

 

Robin’s tent appeared much like every other one in the camp, except it was quite a bit larger.  It was not only where Robin laid his head but where he met with his men and the people about whatever it was they wanted to discuss with him.  Killian had been inside numerous times but when he stepped through the entrance after Thompson he was surprised to see nearly a dozen men and women inside.

 

They were all seated around a long rectangular table with barely enough room for them all.  Robin was seated at the head, directly across from the entrance to the tent.  Roland and Little John were on either side of him followed by a few of the other Merry Men.  The others took him a moment to recognize but seeing Red in her vibrant cape in her spot next to Will Scarlet identified the rest of them as members of Emma’s crew.  Red was beaming at him but he could see she was truly waiting for Emma to enter.

 

“Take a seat, Kieran,” Robin called to him. “Is the Lady Emma with you?”

 

“No,” Killian said apologetically, more to Red and the Brooke’s crew than to Robin. “She went to fetch Pinocchio.”

 

“Then we’ll wait for her arrival,” Robin said decisively, turning to converse with Little John on his right.

 

“Hello, Kieran,” Red greeted him with a hint of laughter in her voice.

 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Red,” Killian said smiling as he gave her a short bow. “I feel I must apologize for the haste with which we left.”

 

“We understand completely,” Red said quietly, her eyes flitting to where Thompson was sitting. “We also brought the satchel you left behind.  How you missed it on the floor is a mystery to me.”

 

Killian looked at her closely and saw her eyes widen slightly.  If he was understanding her right they had found and brought Hewitt’s missing satchel.  Thompson appeared to have heard Red as well as he leaned forward in his seat eagerly.  Red shook her head slightly and gestured with her hand to be patient.  He waited for Thompson to nod in agreement before doing the same.  Emma deserved to be with them when they went through it.

 

While they waited for Emma to arrive Killian wondered what had been in Hewitt’s pack and if it would alter what they would plan to do against the Queen.  He also felt a creeping sense of guilt rising in him.  They had been enjoying Robin’s hospitality and were repaying him by lying.  It was no better than what he had done to Thompson.  He would wait to talk with Emma but he was done tricking others into helping him through lies.

 

“Red!”

 

Emma’s happy cry sounded loudly in the tent.  The two women rushed to embrace each other leaving the rest of them to sit somewhat awkwardly during their reunion.  Killian used the flurry of activity as Emma and Pinocchio greeted the rest of the crew to sit next to Thompson.

 

“I want to let Robin know everything,” he said in a low voice, keeping his eyes trained on the chattering group by the tent entrance.

 

“As you should,” Thompson agreed. “Is it because Red and the Brooke’s crew joining us or because of Hewitt’s satchel?”

 

“Both, but mostly because of the satchel.  Hewitt died, presumably to keep whatever was in that satchel a secret.  It could change everything.”

 

“It already has,” Thompson said distractedly, drumming his fingers on the table in a discordant rhythm.

 

Once everyone settled back down into various chairs they turned to Robin.  Killian wasn’t sure how he would begin but after spending weeks with the man he knew there wouldn’t be much small talk.

 

“First off, let me officially welcome our new guests and invite you to stay with us as long as needed.  If your aim in coming here was to convince us to fight against the Queen you can save your breath, we’ve already come to our decision.”

 

Killian sat back in his chair surprised.  The last time he has spoken to Robin there had still been reluctance on his part to join them.  He had even resolved with himself to not bring it up again until Robin was the one to do it.

 

“So, will you join us?” Emma asked eagerly.  She was sitting at the opposite end of the table and was leaning forward to hear Robin’s answer.

 

“We will, but only if you answer one question,” Robin said casually.

 

Killian was instantly wary but Emma was not.

 

“Done.”

 

“Are you Princess Emma, daughter of Queen Snow and Prince James, the rightful heir to the throne of Misthaven?”

 

Robin said it so calmly that Killian knew that he already had the answer.  He vaguely wondered why Robin had announced her title so readily but did not do the same for him.  The other Merry Men looked between each other quizzically, which indicated to him that they too were caught unaware by Robin’s question.

 

“I-”

 

Emma looked helplessly between Red and himself.  Killian gave her a small, encouraging smile but knew she had to make the choice to confirm or deny Robin’s suspicions on her own.

 

“I haven’t been for a long time,” she said quietly, still looking at him.  Then she looked at Robin, “How long have you known?”

 

Robin smiled and Killian was relieved that he seemed as genial as ever.  Even more so than when Killian had admitted to his own true identity.

 

“You forget that I was a thief the same time your mother was a bandit.  Our wanted posters were often found side by side along the borders of Sherwood Forest.  You have her chin,” Robin gestured at her. “But I wasn’t entirely sure until you sent me to fetch your crew.  A woman with a deep ruby cloak she refuses to remove and dwarves are rarely paired together unless they’re the friends of the Misthaven royal family.  It makes your vendetta against the Queen much more plausible.”

 

“You know, I can see it now,” Will chimed in squinting at her. “Same color eyes.”

 

“How would you know what color Queen Snow’s eyes are?  Weren’t you in Wonderland when she was a bandit?  Or did you happen to run into her when you got back?” Little John asked accusingly in his rumbling voice.

 

“I’ve heard a rumor or two you git,” Will shot back.

 

“Alright, alright,” Robin said with a pacifying wave between the two men. “What good is our arguing going to do against the Queen?”

 

“I dunno but it’s about as good as what we’ve got now which is nothin’,” Will groused.

 

“We have a little more than that,” Emma said hesitantly.

 

She looked at Killian once more, but only him.  With another encouraging smile and a nod he let her know he supported whatever magic she decided to show them.

 

With palms facing up she held them in front of her as though waiting for a platter to be placed in her hands.  Killian heard Will scoff and then gasp as a piece of parchment appeared from nowhere.  She held it up and he saw that it was a wanted poster, much like the one Robin had shown him but instead of looking at his own face he was looking at hers.  As he took in the details, laughing to himself about the price she had put on her head, Will suddenly jumped out of his chair his face white as he stared down at the pile of red roses in front of him.

 

“She’s a bloody witch!” Will cried, pointing an accusing finger at Emma.

 

“Watch your mouth,” Killian warned, knocking his chair over as he stood.

 

“Why?  Is she going to steal my tongue for talkin’ rude ‘bout her?  Or has she bewitched you to defend her honor?” Will snarled, stalking towards him.

 

If he’d had his sword strapped to his side he would have drawn it without hesitation, goodwill with the Merry Men be damned.  His fist was a fine substitute however.

 

Will went down in a crumpled heap.  Killian was barely aware of the chaos erupting around him, a red haze of anger consuming him as he waited for Will to stand back up.  He felt hands grabbing his arms, pulling him back and he let them but kept his eyes on Will.  Then Emma was standing in front of him filling his vision, her cool hands on either side of his face.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.  Listen to me it’s okay,” she said soothingly as her thumbs made gentle circles on his cheeks. She pulled his head down until their foreheads touched, “Killian, I’ve heard worse.  Pirate remember?”

 

He closed his eyes and huffed out a laugh.  With a calming breath he listened to the others settling back down and heard Robin chastising Will thoroughly.  Emma placed a light kiss on his lips and pulled away.  When he blinked his eyes open the first thing he focused on was Red watching him with a knowing smile.

 

“Apologies, my lady, Will sometimes lets his mouth get the better of him,” Robin said tersely.

 

“The roses weren’t much help,” Roland murmured.

 

“Shut it,” Will snapped.  He turned to Emma, “I don’t have the best history with magic and the people who wield it.”

 

“I understand but insult me again and you’ll walk away with less than you came with,” Emma warned, flicking her wrist causing the roses to disappear. “I don’t even need my magic to make good on that promise.  Understood?”

 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Will said quietly as he dropped his eyes to the table.

 

“And get this straight all of you,” she said louder, “no one will utter the words ‘Your Highness’ after we this moment.  It’s either Emma or if you must ‘my lady’.  That goes for my crew as well.  We are not on the Brooke and here on land I am not a captain.  Is that clear?”

 

A chorus of yeses sounded around the table.  Emma nodded in approval and tipped him a small wink.  He grinned back in response.  She would always be ‘Swan’ to him.

 

“So, we have magic on our side,” Robin stated, clearly trying to get them back to the important matters. “Does the Queen know?”

 

“I think she suspects but she doesn’t know that I’ve been practicing,” Emma explained.

 

“Then she’s in for a nasty surprise,” Roland said with a grin.

 

“Too right,” Killian agreed, absently rubbing his aching knuckles. “But we cannot rely on Emma’s magic alone.  The Queen has decades of using magic to rely upon and she won’t have any qualms with fighting unfairly.  It’s how she’s taken the throne twice now.”

 

“Then you have a plan in mind?” Robin asked hopefully.

 

“Not a set one at the moment,” Killian said with an apologetic shrug. “We were waiting on your decision.  There is, however, something that Red brought with her that might influence what we decide to do.”

 

Red and Thompson looked at him in surprise.  He knew they probably both thought he would wait until they were in private to go through Hewitt’s satchel.  It had tempted him, to do just that, but whatever they found would most likely cause them to have to meet with everyone again and with Robin’s continual disappearances they couldn’t afford to delay.

 

He nodded at Red who gave him a skeptical look before she reached below the table and pulled out the satchel from between her feet.  Emma watched the exchange with wide eyes, questions written across her features.  After the satchel was in his hands Red immediately leaned over to whisper in Emma’s ear.  When she looked back at him and gave him a wavering smile he opened the satchel.

 

It was clear that Red had not gone through the contents herself.  Killian could see that while things had been jostled in the journey the few clothing items were folded with naval precision and there was a sense of order to everything that was easy to discern with a trained eye.  Suddenly Killian looked at Thompson, realizing that he shouldn’t be the one to go through what remained of Hewitt’s possessions.

 

“Tommy, do you-”

 

“I ca-,” Thompson whispered shakily, his face ashen. “I can’t.”

 

“Okay,” Killian said, his own voice unsteady.

 

He carefully pulled out items and placed them on the table before him.  Scarves, gloves, and a sweater, items needed for Arendelle’s colder weather, were placed in a pile together farthest away from him.  Next were a couple of books, novels by the look of the pages as he riffled through them for anything amiss or hidden inside.  A packet of letters followed, tied together with a lavender ribbon, the scratchy lettering on the envelopes as well known to him as his own.  Killian set them in front of Thompson with a shaking hand.

 

The last thing in the satchel, other than the odd bits and bobs, was a thick packet of folded parchment but not a kind of parchment he was used to seeing.  It became clear that it was a sheaf of maps as soon as he unfolded it.  He grumbled about proper protocol for handling maps when something occurred to him.  Hewitt had been meticulous with the rest of her satchel, just as she had been when she was sailing aboard the Jewel.  The folded maps were out of character and as he looked closer he realized they were also out of place.

 

At first glance it appeared that the map on top was of Misthaven and the surrounding kingdoms but none of the proper names were used, instead collectively called  _ The Enchanted Forest _ .  Killian looked to the corner to find the mapmaker responsible and furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar name.  He wasn’t familiar with every mapmaker in the kingdom but he knew that the macabre nature of the name Grimm would have stayed with him.

 

The next piece of parchment was another map.  It seemed to be Agrabah and was labeled as such but there were many inconsistencies with the coastlines and distances.  There was no mapmaker named only the words ‘One Thousand and One Nights’ written in cramped writing on the back.

 

He passed the two maps around the table, listening vaguely to the comments made as he studied the others.  Arendelle was there, misnamed, Camelot and Sherwood each had their own maps wildly overestimating their size, and a kingdom in the sea called Atlantis.  Killian was relieved and a little offended that the final piece of parchment was not a map of Balliolshire.  Instead it was a roughly drawn sketch of a man, much like a wanted poster but without the wording and reward marking it as such.  Underneath the drawing was the name Caleb followed by the distinctive question mark that Liam used when he wrote.  It took a moment for Killian to place the name but it came to him.  Caleb was the name of the Queen’s envoy to Balliolshire that Liam accused of being a spy in his last letter.

 

“Does anybody recognize this man?”

 

Killian held up the drawing and after a quiet moment Red gasped.

 

“Emma, isn’t that Mister Diggs?  That boring man from the ball on your sixteenth birthday?”

 

Emma looked up from the map of Misthaven she seemed to be studying closely.  Killian saw her look at the drawing in confusion and then recognition, her mouth twisting down into a frown.

 

“Was that his name?  It looks like him but why does Hewitt have a sketch of him with all these maps?”

 

“Liam suspected him of being a spy sent by the Queen.  My guess is that someone, even Hewitt perhaps, stole the maps from him and with the drawing meant for us to discover who this Diggs, or Caleb, really is.  Do you remember anything about him, Swan?”

 

“Not really,” she said slowly. “He was boring, but not in the way a lot of Mother’s court was.  You know, stuffy and stuck in the past?”

 

Killian knew what she meant.  There had been plenty of men and women that fit that description in his father’s own court.  They would talk without pause about their lands and their forefathers as if to prove their worth to him.

 

“He was older than me, maybe ten years or so?  I remember thinking he’d be so exciting to talk to because there were rumors he’d come from a different land.  Then my dance with him came and all he wanted to talk about was our kingdom’s history and alliances.  I don’t remember seeing him after that.”

 

“I’d heard the same rumors,” Ruby added, “but he only asked me about our trade agreements.  Which is odd conversation for a ball, let alone one where it is unofficially announced that the princess is able to receive suitors.  I do remember that he had an odd smell about him.”

 

“Smell?” Robin asked with his eyebrows raised.

 

“Like hot metal from a forge but also earthy, as if he’d sprung from freshly turned dirt ready to attend the ball,” Red wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t wait for our dance to end.”

 

“How long after the ball did the Queen attack?” Killian asked, suspicion growing in his mind.

 

“A week later,” Emma whispered in horror.

 

“He was on a scouting mission,” Thompson said grimly.

 

“Aye, he had most likely been scouting the kingdom before he set foot in the castle for the ball.  With the Queen’s magic an invitation would have been easy to come by.  The ball would have been a perfect opportunity to slip into the castle unnoticed and learn of any changes in structure and guards that had been made since the Queen had been banished,” Killian said matching Thompson’s tone. “The Queen couldn’t chance using a glamour in case there were fairies in attendance.  Diggs must be very loyal and very trusted for him to have stayed with her all these years.”

 

“What do you mean?” Robin asked looking troubled.

 

“The last I was aware the Queen had sent this man in her stead to my father’s funeral.  He was still there as of two months ago if my brother sent Hewitt with this drawing,” Killian explained.

 

“Who’s your family that the Queen sent this apparently trusted man to a funeral and then to spy on your brother?  He the self important lord of some land the Queen has her eye on?” Will scoffed.

 

“Not exactly,” Killian said through gritted teeth. “He’s-”

 

“Kieran,” Robin said, calling him by his false name in warning.

 

Killian bristled at having to keep up the charade.  How his true name posed more of a liability than Emma’s he had no clue but he would follow Robin’s lead.  For the moment.

 

“He’s as vocal in his opposition of the Queen as my father was loyal.  No doubt this man was sent to ensure my brother doesn’t try to rise up against her,” Killian lied smoothly, avoiding the stares from the few who knew his true identity.

 

“Seems as though she chose the wrong brother to spy on, mate,” Will guffawed.

 

“It would appear so,” Killian said through a tight smile.

 

Will laughed louder and winced as his exuberance pulled at the freshly healed cut on his lip.  Killian felt only mild satisfaction at the man’s pain.

 

“Does this have any bearing on what you plan to do?” Robin asked over Will’s continued laughter.

 

“No,” Killian said, feeling as though a heavy weight was settling back on his shoulders.  He had hoped something more absolute would have come from the contents of Hewitt’s satchel. “The most we can do is confirm my brother’s suspicions.  We’ll have to continue as we were before: recruiting as many willing people as possible to fight against the Queen,”

 

“You can count on us,” Roland said, his eyes bright. “With Regina looking elsewhere she’ll be getting a hell of a surprise from us.”

 

“That’s what we’re hoping for but we need more people if we’re to have any sort of chance against her.  Which also means we’ll need to move on from here soon.”

 

Killian watched as his announcement sunk in.  There was nothing for it.  They needed the bodies to fight the Queen’s army and they wouldn’t get them by hiding in Sherwood Forest.

 

“Ah, we might be able to help you there.”

 

“Roland!”

 

Killian watched in confusion as father and son held a silent conversation.  Silent but entirely expressive.  Roland was grinning, it widened or faltered but never disappeared.  Robin was frowning steadily until he closed his eyes with a sigh and nodded.

 

“We’ve been hearing rumors.  They started around the time you arrived in Sherwood,” Roland nodded at Killian. “Regina is planning something.”

 

“Do you know what?”

 

It was Thompson that asked and Killian was surprised he didn’t already know.  Then he realized that even though he hadn’t seen much of Thompson or Robin and his men didn’t mean that they had been together.

 

“We weren’t sure at first.  She has a palace, about a week’s journey on foot from here, and our scouts in the villages near there noticed a sudden rise in the amount of guards arriving but not leaving.  It’s a large palace but there were never more than ten to fifteen guards at any particular time.  Now there’s thirty,” Roland said thumping his hand on the table for emphasis.

 

“What good does that do us?  The palace would have been easy to take before but now it’s more heavily guarded and you’re acting like we can just waltz in there and call it ours,” Pinocchio said shaking his head.

 

“Did I forget to mention that a carriage with bars on its windows arrived the day before last?  That castle has been nothing but a prison for one person for more than a decade and it seems Regina has finally remembered that they exist.  She’s moving them to who knows where and when she does that palace will be ours for the taking,” Roland said triumphantly.

 

Killian wasn’t listening.  The moment Roland spoke of the prisoner he had focused entirely on Emma.  She was vibrating with tension but he could see none of the impatience or recklessness he’d seen when they had first heard of the palace.  Her face was a mask of grim determination.

 

“Do you know who the prisoner is?” Pinocchio asked with a tremor in his voice.

 

“No one does.  Regina attacked our villages first when she made her move to take back the throne.  By the time she had the crown and we could focus on something more than burying our dead and rebuilding our lives the palace had become a prison.” Little John said bitterly.

“No one had seen the prisoner.”

 

“But it’s someone important,” Emma said in a hard voice.

 

“Swan.”

 

“It has to be.”

 

Killian had spoken the same time as Roland but Emma was only listening to the latter.

 

“When will they move him?”

 

“How do you know it’s a man?” Will asked amused, completely missing the serious tones that the conversation had fallen into.

 

“I do,” Emma snapped at him.  She turned back to Roland, “When?”

 

“We’re not sure,” Robin was the one who answered in a resigned tone. “But within the next fortnight.”

 

“Then we leave in the morning,” Emma said decisively.

 

“Emma, please love, think about this.”

 

“Emma, what is going on?”

 

It was Red who spoke when he did but Emma only turned to look at him.

 

“You promised,” she said fiercely, tears standing in her eyes.

 

“Aye, I did,” he breathed out only loud enough for her to hear.  He took a deep breath and turned to Robin, “You said that you’re with us and now comes the true test of that commitment.  We’ll be leaving after the morning meal for the Queen’s palace-”

 

“At dawn,” Emma broke in with a ruthless tone, “with or without you.”

 

“Emma,” Killian implored.

 

“Dawn.”

 

“We’ll be there,” Robin said quickly before Killian could object again.

 

He nodded in acceptance of both Robin’s support and Emma’s obstinance, “Then I suggest spending time with your loved ones tonight.  It may very well be your last chance.”

 

Emma’s smile of gratitude did little to quell feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach.  Killian knew, how he wasn’t sure, that they would find that there was something far more threatening than a few dozen guards and prisoner waiting for them at the palace.  For the first time since he had left Balliolshire Killian could feel the icy tendrils of fear beginning to taking hold.


	18. Storming the Palace

“Oh good, Jones, you’re awake!”

 

Killian rolled his eyes as Roland joined him at the fire.  It was his watch so Roland’s surprise was all show.  He had wondered if one of Robin’s men would question him one final time before they snuck into the Queen’s palace the next night.  Although, it was Will he had expected to be convincing not Roland who had been wholeheartedly backing their decisions the whole time.

 

They were camped within sight of the palace, a thick strand of trees and underbrush was keeping them well hidden from roving eyes.  Nearly everyone had turned in as soon as darkness had fallen, their exhaustion getting the best of them.  Emma had set a brutal pace and they had reached their destination the day before over the course of five long, hard days which was two days earlier than the seven that Robin had warned them it would take.

 

He stoked the low burning fire while he waited for Roland to say his piece.  As the quiet continued, however, he found his mind drifting back to what had consumed his thoughts before he was interrupted.

 

Emma had been true to her word and had roused their tent an hour before dawn the day after they had learned of the Queen’s prisoner.  The sun’s rays had barely peaked above the horizon when they had emerged from the ravine that hid Robin’s camp.  They had nearly left one of the dwarves behind in Emma’s determination to begin their journey.

 

Their first day of travel had been congenial despite the underlying tension that had run through them all.  They had split into smaller groups as they had walked.  Emma and Pinocchio had spent the time catching up with Red and their former crew while Robin and his men had talked in low murmurs amongst themselves.  Killian and Thompson had walked side by side, outsiders to both groups, but their conversation had been stilted and awkward and they had given up the pretense after an hour.

 

When they had stopped to make camp that night there had still been a modicum of good cheer.  One of Robin’s men was an accomplished storyteller and had them hanging on his every word as they had sat around that night’s fire, passing a flask or two amongst them.  It had been a pleasant way to pass the time, marred only by Killian noticing that Emma had only been pretending to enjoy herself as well.  When she had thought no one was watching her features had shifted between worry and ferocity like quicksilver.

 

After they had settled down that night he had lain awake for hours, his thoughts chasing themselves around his mind keeping sleep at bay.  He had been about to relieve whoever had been on watch, to at least make use of his insomnia, when Emma had approached him with her blankets in hand.  She hadn’t said a word, merely settled herself beside him, burying her face in his chest when he had wrapped his arms around her.  They hadn’t mentioned anything about it the next morning when they woke but she had joined him again as soon as they had bedded down that night.  She had slept in his arms every night since all while he felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink.

 

Roland shifted beside him, sighing dramatically.  Whatever he wanted to talk about Killian was in no mood to hear.  His temper was short and his patience was even shorter.

 

“It’s too soon, you know,” Roland finally said after another ten minutes of his restless silence.

 

“Shouldn’t our early arrival be a positive thing?  We’ll be better prepared when the time comes,” Killian said shortly, jabbing the stick he was using to stir the fire into a glowing log causing sparks to spit into the air.

 

He had gone with Emma and Will early that morning to scout the perimeter of the palace.  The barred carriage that Roland had mentioned had been sitting in the courtyard, unguarded and not ready in the slightest to be used.  Will had shown them the hidden gate they would use to sneak into the palace.  When Killian had questioned his knowledge Will had stunned them with the tale of how he had snuck in nearly twelve years before for gold and jewels and had ended up freeing Belle instead.  Their marriage had come several years later.

 

Emma had insisted on watching the palace for the remainder of the day and he had stayed by her side.  Others had joined them from time to time: Red to tell them that she somehow knew there were only eighteen bodies inside but there could be more, Robin to try and persuade them to wait another day or two to try to get the guards’ schedule down precisely, Pinocchio tried convince her to wait as well but more for Emma to take a step back and to make a better plan than rushing in and hoping they made it back out with one more person added to their numbers instead of the other way around.  Killian had watched them all walk back to the camp, their shoulders hanging a little lower, leaving Emma with a scowl that became a bit more pronounced and his itch to stop their plan from proceeding but he had made a promise and he intended to keep it for better or for worse.

 

“I’m not talking about taking the palace,” Roland dismissed with a wave of his hand. “The prophecy, it’s too soon.”

 

Killian took a deep breath to quell the rage that suddenly consumed him.  He let it out slowly through his nose as he tipped his head back to the sky and counted stars, even as they blurred above him.

 

“You and that bloody prophecy,” Killian ground out as he dropped his head back down to look at Roland. “You are more concerned with the whispers of dreamers than the reality of what we’re facing.  We could die tomorrow, you know that right?  Does your certainty about fate extend to whether or not we’ll succeed and all make it out unscathed?  If not I have nothing more to discuss with you.”

 

“I’m no fool, I know we could die tomorrow but we could also succeed and we need to have a plan for that.  If the prophecy is true then a year is a long time to wage a war against Regina and-”

 

Killian stood abruptly, hurling the stick in his hand into the fire causing a shower of sparks to fly into the night air, “I will not sit here and listen to your childish fantasies.  If you’re so inclined to be awake to dwell on them then you can take over the watch.”

 

He stormed away from the fire, well aware that the others were most likely awake and had heard his fit of pique.  The moon was nearly full, lighting his way as he stomped through the woods trying to work out his ire on the leaves and twigs underfoot instead of directing it at someone or something that didn’t deserve it.  As he kept walking his anger and frustrations grew, consuming him so fully that he hadn’t realized he was heading in the direction of the Queen’s palace until he saw it silhouetted against the night sky some distance in front of him.  The sight of it unlocked something inside of him and he spun to slam his fist into the nearest tree only to have his whole arm stopped mid-air halfway there.

 

“Swan!” He growled, not even turning to face her.

 

“I’m not going to let you break your hand,” she said simply.  He could hear her walking towards him, “I need you for tomorrow.”

 

“Right, you need me whole to assist you.  I apologize, love, it seems I’ve forgotten my priorities,” he said bitterly as he strained against her magic.

 

“If you want to break every bone in your hand I’m not going to stop you,” she stepped in front of him and he was startled to see tears in her eyes as she looked up at him, “but I  _ need _ you tomorrow, Killian.  I don’t think I can do it without you.”

 

A single tear rolled down her cheek and it was as if it had contained another dose of her magic as his anger vanished completely.  He used his free hand to wipe the moisture away as she closed her eyes, causing more tears to fall.  Feeling like an ass he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him as best he could while the other was still held by her magic.  As soon as she buried her face into his chest to muffle her sobs his arm was released and he immediately wrapped it around her nearly crushing her to him.

 

Her tears continued unchecked and he felt more and more unworthy as he tried to comfort her with his words and his touch.  He had been so preoccupied with his own worries he hadn’t given a single thought to how Emma had been faring.  They were about to mount a rescue mission for the father she hadn’t seen in nearly eleven years against an unknown number of guards and the ever looming threat of the Queen appearing before them in a puff of smoke.  Emma had been so assured and forthright on their journey to the palace that he hadn’t stopped to think that she was hiding her fears and apprehension for what they were going to do.

 

“I’m so sorry, love,” he murmured into her hair once she had calmed down to mere sniffles. “I’ve clearly been failing in my duties that I failed to notice your miseries.”

 

“What duties?” She asked with a soft hiccup in her breath.

 

“Guarding your heart of course,” he answered quietly, rubbing her back gently. “That you even doubted for a second that you won’t succeed tomorrow is a testament that I’ve been neglecting you.”

 

“You haven’t been neglecting me you ass,” Emma huffed, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes. “You’re the only reason I’ve been able to hold it together and get any sleep at night.  I’m the one who should be sorry.”

 

“Why’s that, Swan?” He asked, gently running his fingers through the strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead and tucking them behind her ears.

 

“Have you slept at all since we left Robin’s camp?”

 

Killian sighed deeply but he wasn’t surprised she had noticed.  He had tried to hide his irritability but the constant yawning and dragging of his feet most likely had given him away.

 

“For an hour or so each night if I were to hazard a guess.  It’ll be enough to suffice,” he closed his eyes as she brought her fingers to trace what he could only guess were considerable dark shadows under his eyes. “I promise you I’ll sleep for however long you deem sufficient once we’ve rescued your father and are away from this place.”

 

“I could help you know.  I’ve done it before.”

 

Emma said it almost apologetically and it took him a moment to realize why.  He had thought she’d done something to his drink back in Senlikli to knock him out but that had been before he knew of her magic.  The nausea he had felt the next morning was much easier to remember, however.

 

“I appreciate the offer, love, but I’ll pass,” he said with a grimace.

 

“Why?  You’re practically dead on your feet,” she paused.  He watched as she dropped her eyes to the ground and pulled away from him slightly, “You don’t trust me.”

 

“What?!” He cried indignantly, not caring if he was heard all the way at the palace. He gripped her upper arms to hold her steady and ducked his head so he met her sad gaze, “I trust you with my life, Emma, with my very soul.  You have saved both, not only with your magic but with every fibre of your being.  If there is one thing that I don’t trust is that tomorrow will not be easy and I cannot afford to be hindered by my body’s poor reactions.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Emma seemed confused but he could see there was a light blush on her cheeks from his vehement words.

 

“I’m not afraid or distrustful of your magic, love,” he repeated, making sure she understood, “but my body does not seem to listen to my head or my heart.  It took me some time to recover from the last time you rendered me unconscious.”

 

Emma stared at him in confusion.  Then her eyes cleared and a smile started to grow.  He was startled when she barked out a laugh and buried her head in his chest to muffle the sound.

 

“You idiot,” her chastisement rumbled into his chest.  She tipped her head back to look at him, merriment in her eyes, “You do remember drinking almost a whole bottle of rum between us that night don’t you?  It was from my personal stash, not the swill that tavern was serving.  Which, if I remember correctly, you were drinking that before I even showed up.  It wasn’t my magic you were feeling the next day, sailor.”

 

“Bloody hell,” he groaned. “Apparently I was drunk on much more than your presence that night, Swan.”

 

“I’d say,” she snorted in agreement. “You were halfway to passing out when I sped things along.  You’re really heavy by the way.”

 

“Did you haul me up to that room by yourself?” He asked, curious how the night had continued after he’d passed out.

 

“Red helped,” Emma said with a small smile. “She must have left that note for you while I was pacing the room worried about how much you’d figured out.”

 

“You weren’t very subtle with that tale you told, love,” he said with a smile of his own.

 

“I guess not,” she conceded.  She turned her head to rest her cheek on his chest, “I’m worried about tomorrow.”

 

“Scared?” He asked, running his fingers gently through her hair.

 

“A little but it’s more than that,” she sighed and he felt her gripping the back of his shirt tightly. “I feel like we’re walking straight into a trap but it’s too late to turn back.  We can’t turn back.”

 

“I feel the same, Swan.  Have since Roland told us of the prisoner,” Killian gathered her close to him. “It’s half the reason I’ve been unable to sleep.”

 

“Only half?” Her hands relaxed and he felt them drop to link together at his lower back.

 

“Aye.  I’ve also been quite a bit worried about you lass,” he said truthfully. “A lot has happened that we’ve been unable to discuss.  Your reuniting with Red, for instance.”

 

“It’s been good but weird?” Emma shifted in his arms until she was tucked into his left side, his arm over her shoulder. “It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen her but it’s only been weeks.”

 

“As I said: a lot has happened in those weeks.  Hell, I’d say the past  _ year _ has been quite eventful.  Wouldn’t you?”

 

Emma laughed as she shook her head.  Killian squeezed her shoulders and sighed.  They looked out at the lit windows of the palace for some time before she shifted somewhat nervously next to him.

 

“Killian, what if he’s not there?” She asked in a small voice.

 

“Has that been troubling you this whole time?” He’d had his suspicions that it had been and that was why she had been seeking his comfort at night.

 

“All we’re going on is rumors.  Regina could have moved him years ago or he was never even there in the first place.  It could just be someone like Belle and-”

 

“And we’ll still be rescuing whomever it is from being taken to what is most certainly their death.  Even if it isn’t your father the prisoner who is in there may have seen him or know something about the Queen that will help us defeat her.  But answer this: do you believe he is there?” 

 

He watched as she opened and closed her mouth twice before looking up at him with a resolute gleam in her eyes, “I do.”

 

“Then hold on to that, Swan, and you won’t fail,” he said confidently, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered.  She tipped her head back until her lips found his and gave him a soft but quick kiss. “Do you think we can go back and get some sleep now?”

 

“Aye, I believe Alan should be on watch by now and if not Roland can certainly remain awake until he is,” Killian said bitterly, his irritation at Roland flaring up once again.

 

“I heard what he said,” Emma huffed as she began to walk towards their camp, taking his hand firmly in hers. “You know, about that stupid prophecy.  We didn’t believe it before so there’s no reason to start believing in it now.”

 

“It’s not that I believe in it, love,” he said, dismissing the absurdity of it out of hand. “It’s the fact that he had the nerve to bring it up mere hours before we lay siege on the Queen’s palace.  I’m afraid that knowing you’re truly the daughter of Queen Snow and Prince James has only increased his fervor that the prophecy be true.”

 

“Then we’ll just have to prove him wrong,” she said smugly.

 

Soon their camp was within sight, dimly lit by the moon overhead and the low glow of the fire at Alan’s feet.  Killian was immensely glad that Roland hadn’t waited up for him to return.  He wasn’t entirely sure the man had taken the rather large hint he’d made about dropping talk of the prophecy when he had stormed out into the woods.

 

Emma led him gently back to her bedroll, noticing that she had set his up as well.  After a few moments of shuffling around and making themselves comfortable they settled.  With Emma’s head on his chest, their arms wrapped around each other, he fell into the first restful sleep he’d had in days.

 

When he awoke the next day Killian was surprised to see Emma still curled into his side.  From the position of the sun, and from the movement of others in the camp, it was at least an hour after dawn.  He had expected her to be up with the sun and holding another vigil at the palace until they made their move when the sun set that night.

 

“Morning.”

 

Killian craned his neck to see Red standing over him, beaming.

 

“So it is,” he said, a bit of gravel in his voice from sleep.  He cleared his throat, careful not to disturb Emma, “Is there something wrong?”

 

“You’re good for her,” Red said with a tilt of her head, ignoring his question. “She’s always had trouble sleeping, even when she was little.  Nearly drove her mother to madness some nights.”

 

“She didn’t have to stay up with me,” Emma mumbled, startling him as she burrowed further into his chest.

 

“But she did, even when you didn’t need watching anymore,” Red’s smile dimmed and she sighed sadly. “She’s missed so much.”

 

“Red, please don’t,” Emma said as she sat up abruptly and spun to face Red, causing his arm to drop unceremoniously to the ground. “With Dad we’ll find her.  He’s always found her.”

 

“You’re right,” Red seemed to shake herself and smiled once more. “Robin and Roland are observing the palace.  We have a long day ahead of us but we should be ready by nightfall.”

 

Before either one of them could comment Red walked off towards the small group sitting by the fire.  Killian sat up himself, noting the slight chill in the air that would soon give way to the heat of the day.  Autumn was fast approaching and with it the year mark of when he’d began his quest to find Captain Swan.

 

“I have a question, love,” he said slowly as something occurred to him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why haven’t you gone to free your mother?  Her location is widely known, I discovered it in a book myself months ago,” Killian watched dismayed as Emma dropped her gaze to her lap, turning slightly away from him.  He reached out to touch her shoulder gently, “Emma, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” she took a deep breath and faced him again.  Her eyes were dry but he could see a storm of emotion in the green depths, “We tried once, when we first commandeered the Brooke.  I lost three of my men and nearly the whole ship before we were even close to the island.  Regina couldn’t have known it was me but she still had powerful defensive spells in place for whoever tried to rescue my mom.  I couldn’t risk more innocent lives when we had no way of breaking through Regina’s spells.”

 

“But your magic,” he started but paused when she shook her head at him.

 

“I didn’t have the control I do now.  When I healed you after Blackbeard that was the first time I had tried to deliberately do anything that big with my magic.  My hands tingled with power for hours after,” Emma flexed her hands in her lap and he reached over, placing his on them gently. “Now I have control, we’ll soon have my dad, and I have you.”

 

“Me?” He asked astonished.

 

“You believe in me,” she said with a shrug. “You make me feel like I can do anything.”

 

Killian barely stopped his mouth from dropping open in awe.  He wanted to tell her in that moment that he loved her.  It was on the tip of his tongue but something held him back.  There was too much hanging in the balance to tempt fate in that way and even though he hated himself for it he couldn’t help but remember the last time he told someone he loved them.  He knew Emma was nothing like Jacqueline but the wounds left by his former lover ran far deeper than he was willing to admit.  By telling Emma he loved her Killian felt he would be risking everything he couldn’t survive losing.

 

Emma was looking at him expectantly, almost as if she could read his very emotions as though they were written plainly on his face.

 

“I- I feel quite the same about you, Swan.  I’d be a dead man without you,” he said as heartfelt as he could all the while berating himself for behaving like a coward.

 

“Well,” she said with a smile.  He wasn’t sure if he imagined her slight disappointment or not, “I may not be  _ the Savior _ but I’ll always be yours.  Come on, they should have breakfast ready by now.”

 

When they joined the others at the fire he was pleased to see that there was food waiting for them.  Emma acted as though nothing were amiss and slowly his worry at hurting her feelings inadvertently faded.  Robin and Roland returned midway through their meal, having been relieved by Pinocchio and Thompson.  All conversation focused solely on how things would proceed come nightfall and going over anything and everything that could possibly go wrong.

 

The day passed slowly with only the sun crawling across the sky at a snail’s pace and the switching of the watch on the palace to mark the passage of time.  Surprisingly Emma refused to take any of the watches despite her vigil the day before.  When Killian asked her about it she told him she didn’t want to risk giving in to the temptation to sneak into the palace before the time was right.  He had hugged her tightly after her confession, immensely glad she still willing to confide in him despite his reservations with his true feelings earlier in the day.

 

Finally the sun dropped fully below the horizon, the sign that they had been waiting for to move to the vantage point they had been using to observe the palace.  Killian could feel his stomach begin to churn with nerves and unease as they walked.  There were fourteen of them altogether but they were a motley crew going up against the Queen’s heavily armed and properly trained guards.  Emma seemed to feel the same anxiety he was because she had slipped her hand into his not long after they had begun walking and he could feel it tremble every so often.

 

They reached Red and Grumpy without incident as the deep indigo in the west turned to the inky black of night and the full moon began its ascent in the east.  Everyone seemed to be filled with nervous energy, pacing and muttering amongst themselves.  The first move on the palace couldn’t be made until Red gave her signal, one that she hadn’t shared with anyone but Emma assured them all they would know it when they saw it.  There was nothing for it but to wait, growing more on edge as they did.

 

“I don’t feel right attempting this tonight,” Thompson murmured as he sidled up to Killian close to midnight. “We should have waited to leave.  Swan put us here right at the full moon, we’ll be sighted before we can even get close enough to fire a single arrow at the palace.”

 

“I know,” Killian sighed, looking over the landscape lit by the large round moon high above their heads. “Emma was insistent that we make our move tonight.”

 

“She’s blinded by the hope that she could be reunited with her father,” Thompson stated baldly. “There are others who are plenty concerned.”

 

“We won’t have a better opportunity for this,” Killian pointed out trying not to start an argument.  He decided to use the same logic he had used with Emma earlier, “Whoever is being held at the palace, whether it is her father or not, does not deserve to be left to the Queen’s mercy.  Which, judging by the increased guards and barred carriage, may have well run out.”

 

“Why not attempt an ambush on the carriage?  We’d have the advantage, the chance at complete surprise, and a far better escape route than hoping we don’t get cut off by the arrival of more guards,” Thompson said fervently. “All we would stand to lose is time.”

 

“Regina’s not stupid,” Red said from behind them, startling them both. “She learned from her mistakes with Emma’s mother and enchants her carriages to kill anyone who attempts to rob them in addition to the small army she sends with them as a guard.  We were lucky to learn that from others who had found out the hard way.  No one has dared attack her palace before and that’s just one of the advantages we have by acting tonight.”

 

“One of the advantages?” Killian asked puzzled.

 

“Emma’s magic is another of course.  She’ll have to take care of anything I can’t,” Red said with a feral smile.

 

“What do you mean ‘anything you can’t’?”

 

Killian barely had the question past his lips when Red unclasped her ever present cloak, stepping back as it pooled on the ground looking much like blood from a wound.  A shudder wracked her body violently, causing her to drop to all fours from the power of it.  He moved to help her but a hand wrapped around his elbow stopping him from taking a single step.

 

“Don’t!  She can only control herself so much during the transformation,” Emma said in a warning tone but with no hint of alarm or concern for her godmother.

 

“Transformation?” Thompson asked looking alarmed as he caught Killian’s eye.

 

Before Emma could clarify Killian found out exactly what she meant.

 

Shudders were running continuously through Red’s frame.  With something akin to horror he watched as her very body began to change before his eyes.  There was a nausea inducing popping sounds that echoed through the woods as her joints fell out of place and rearranged themselves.  Her face elongated into a snout as her moans of pain turned into snarls and yips around sharpened teeth.  With a final violent convulsion thick fur replaced her clothing and smooth skin and Killian found himself staring at a large black wolf where Red once was.

 

“That explains some things,” he said weakly.

 

“Bloody hell, I wish we’d get some kind of warnin’ before you lot release your tricks on us!” Will exclaimed somewhere off to Killian’s side.

 

“It seems we needed the full moon after all,” Thompson said sounding shaken.

 

Killian couldn’t seem to take his eyes of the wolf now in front of him.  It was larger than any wolf he’d ever seen or heard described, standing nearly as tall as his waist at the shoulders.  With a shake of its ebony colored coat it padded over to him and sat docilely at his feet.  He looked down at its face and was stunned to to see Red’s grey green eyes staring back at him, glittering playfully.  She opened her mouth in a wolfy grin, tongue lolling out one side all but destroying the image of man eating beast.

 

“I hate to agree with Will, love, but a little advanced notice would have been nice,” Killian chastised Red, shaking his head at her. “‘I can smell the trees’?  Were you hoping I’d catch on or merely enjoying a private joke with yourself at my expense?”

 

Red began to swish her tail around her haunches quickly and pawed at the ground excitedly.  Killian took it as an an answer in the affirmative to the latter and grumbled under his breath, making sure to keep it incoherent guessing that her hearing was far better in her wolf state than her human one.  With a jolt he realized Red had hinted to him already that her human hearing far surpassed a normal person’s.

 

“Is this perhaps why you insisted Lady Red be the first through the side gate once Will opened it?” Robin asked.

 

Killian turned and saw that Robin, his men, and Thompson were looking at Red with reserve and a little hint of fear.  He silently commended Robin and his men for standing their ground despite their unease.  Will seemed to be the only one ready to leave, not from fear but from what Killian could only figure was distrust.  He idly wondered what had happened to the man that he seemed to hate any kind of magic with such vigor.

 

“I would have told you sooner but I’ve found that seeing is a better way of explaining than telling,” Emma said with a hint of apology.  He looked at her and found her already looking at him sadly, “I should have told you.  Even if you wouldn’t have believed me.”

 

“I would have,” he said simply, giving her a forgiving smile.

 

A chuffing noise sounded behind him and he felt the brush of thick hair pass over the back of his hand.  Red walked past all of them without a single glance back, heading in the direction of the palace.  As the tip of her tail disappeared behind a bush they broke from their stupor and clambered to follow her.

 

They moved silently.  There was no need for any of them to talk having discussed the plan well beyond the point of exhaustion.  Will took the lead and from the set of his shoulders Killian could tell he did so reluctantly.  From there Red trotted behind followed by Robin and Little John, who had some knowledge of the layout of the palace, though not as much as Will.  Killian and Thompson were next immediately in front of Emma and Pinocchio, who were so close they constituted a group of four more than the groups of two they were supposed to move in.  The rest of the party followed a considerable distance behind.  They would wait to enter the palace grounds to form a sort of second wave of attack and help dispatch any guards that could surround the first group.  Killian wondered if there’d be any guards left after Red was through with them.

 

Soon enough they were at the side gate Will had pointed out to them the day before.  He bent to inspect it when it swung open with a slight creak in its hinges.  Will jumped back in surprise pulling a knife from his belt but there was no one on the other side.  He looked back at them and scowled at a point right behind Killian.  When he looked back he saw Emma smiling smugly and waving her fingers at Will.

 

“Stop it, you’ll get us killed,” Pinocchio whispered low but harshly, barely loud enough for Killian to hear him.

 

“I didn’t want to wait for him to fiddle with whatever lock was on it.  I could take care if it so I did,” Emma whispered back petulantly.

 

“Enough,” Robin hissed.  Killian turned back to look at him and saw him gently restraining Will, “We cannot turn back now and your petty jabs need to end.  Will, her magic is a help to us, stop acting as though she’ll turn you into a toad and Emma, a little less goading if you will.”

 

Their nods off accent seemed to be enough for Robin and he let go of Will.  With a final scowl at all of them Will let Red pass him by and then stepped through the gate himself.

 

Before Killian could follow Robin and Little John he could hear the sounds of a struggle.  He sped up his pace and skidded through the gate, sword at the ready.  Will and Robin were engaged with a guard, Little John and Red circling them on high alert.  Robin had his hand clamped over the guard’s mouth as he struggled to get him to release his hands that were wrapped around Will’s throat.  Suddenly the guard seized up, eyes widening in surprise before loosening his grip.  Will stood straight, gasping and wrenched his arm from where it was at the guard’s side pulling his knife from between the man’s ribs as he did.  Robin grimly lowered the guard to the ground, hand still over his mouth, and didn’t let go until he appeared satisfied that the man was dead.

 

“One down countless others to go,” Thompson quipped quietly.

 

“Emma’s little trick tipped him off,” Will snarled, rubbing at his throat. “He was waitin’ behind the gate for me.  Downwind.”

 

“He would have been there regardless, you ass,” Emma snapped.

 

“I said enough!” Robin said harshly. “We need to move and we need to split up.”

 

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Killian said looking at Robin sharply.

 

“Neither was having a werewolf on our side,” Robin stated bluntly. “She can do far more alone than we can bumbling around in a pack.  You, Red, Emma, and Little John will go east.  The rest of us will go west once I divide the others.”

 

“How will we know what the others are doing?  Let alone if they’ve found what we’re after?” Killian asked feeling the return of his unease increased by tenfold.

 

“Head straight for the highest tower in the east wing,” Will rasped. “There’s no dungeon and it’s where the bloody Queen held Belle.  It’ll have the most guards but that means the rest of us will be able to dispatch the rest with ease.”

 

“With Red and Emma’s magic you’ll have a better chance at making it through,” Robin agreed.

 

“We’re wasting time,” Pinocchio said stepping up to join the discussion. “It’s a good plan.”

 

“Swan?” Killian turned to her, confident that she would agree with him.

 

“They’re right, Jones,” Emma said without hesitation.  He nearly flinched at the hard glint in her eyes as she looked past him at Robin, “If something detains you we leave for the ravine an hour before dawn.  I hope we see you before then.”

 

“Understood,” Robin agreed.

 

“Wait, just a damn minute,” Killian protested, aghast at what was happening.  He searched the faces around him and found none that sympathized.

 

“We don’t have a minute,” Emma said stepping up to him.  She grasped his hand and leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “Please, Killian, we need to go.”

 

He closed his eyes.  There was something pressing down on him, some sense of urgency that was making it hard for him to breathe let alone think rationally through the abrupt change in their plan.  The need to haul Emma over his shoulder and all but drag her from the palace was rapidly growing inside him.  Releasing a shaky breath he nodded, feeling as though he sealed all their fates with the simple motion.

 

Emma stepped away from him as he opened his eyes and motioned for Red to lead the way.  He looked at the others wondering if it would be the last time he saw any of them alive.

 

“Come on, Jones,” Emma said softly.

 

Kilian turned to follow her.  A hand on his shoulder stopped him.  He looked back and was surprised to see Thompson.

 

“Keep your eyes open,” Thompson said steadily belying the worry Killian could see in his eyes.

 

“... and your mouth shut.” Killian choked out.

 

Thompson touched his fingers to his eye and mouth before pushing him gently in the direction Emma was waiting for him.  Killian repeated the gesture with a shaky hand.  He turned and saw Emma and Pinocchio exchanging a few words, each gripping the other’s hands tightly.  She pulled Pinocchio in for a hug and caught Killian’s eyes over his shoulder, worry etched across her face.  Killian walked over as they pulled apart.  Pinocchio nodded at him and held out his hand.  He gripped it tightly, giving him an unspoken promise to protect Emma.

 

No other goodbyes were exchanged.  Red was pacing impatiently between the dead guard and the wall meant to keep them out.  As he and Emma joined her and Little John she took his hand.  Together they headed east towards the palace that loomed over them like a dark omen.  Killian could only fervently hope that every one of them would survive to see the dawn.


	19. Lost and Found

The hidden gate Will had brought them through had put them closer to the north west corner of the back side of the palace.  There was nothing in the courtyard they found themselves in that they could use for cover as they moved east; no gardens, no artfully shaped hedges in the courtyard, or even any tinkling fountains breaking the stillness of the night.  They scanned the palace to find a way in as they kept close to the outer wall keeping out of sight.  Killian waited on edge for the sounds of arrows flying through the air or swords being drawn as they moved quickly but he could hear nothing aside from their footfalls and harsh breathing.

 

The palace was infinitely more foreboding than it had appeared from their lookout point in the woods.  Sharp spires jutted out into the sky tapering to points that served no purpose but to enhance the unwelcome nature of its former inhabitant.  It was large, far larger than a banished Queen had any right to and Killian begrudgingly commended Robin under his breath for splitting them up.  A sudden thought occurred to him and he nearly stopped in his tracks at the implication.  The number of guards they suspected to be there were far too few for a palace of that size.

 

“There,” Little John whispered pointing towards the palace with his quarterstaff, breaking apart Killian’s thoughts. “The servant’s entrance should be right about there.”

 

Killian saw Red sniffing in the direction Little John was pointing and looked for himself.  There was no lantern lit, as there was beside the servant’s entrance at his own castle, but he could just make out the shape of the door in the moonlight.

 

“Does she keep a lot of servants?” Emma asked, also squinting at the door.

 

“We don’t know anymore,” Little John answered unhelpfully. “We keep away from the village that’s near here for obvious reasons.  According to Will who heard it from Belle she only saw guards the entire time she was kept here.”

 

“Efficient,” Killian said sardonically.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were far more outnumbered than originally thought, “Perhaps she enchanted the kitchen wares to do the cooking and the furniture to keep the innumerable halls tidy.  There are servants, we’ll just have to be lenient when we come across them.”

 

Suddenly Red shot out from their position at the wall and streaked across the courtyard.  Before any of them could do more than gasp she lept to the left of the door where Killian heard a startled yell that was cut off almost as soon as he heard it.  Red dragged something out into the courtyard and with a shake of her head ripped out the throat of a guard who’s concealment, clearly a spell of the Queen’s, appeared to have ended the moment he died.  With blood dripping from her muzzle Red paced in front of the door before sitting on her haunches and looking back at them.

 

“I believe that’s a sign that all is clear,” Killian croaked.

 

“I’m glad she’s on our side,” Little John said, sounding no better.

 

“We have our weapons and she has teeth.  Either way the guard would have died,” Emma stated without sympathy. “Red and I can keep going if you can’t handle it.”

 

“Took us by surprise is all,” Killian said with a shake of his head, unsheathing his sword. “Trust me, we can handle it.”

 

With a nod from Emma they crossed the courtyard as swiftly and as silently as possible.  He winced at every heavy footfall and every tiny pebble that was accidentally kicked across the stones underfoot expecting a volley of arrows to erupt from behind them.  Only Red sitting calmly in front of the servant’s entrance kept him from checking over his shoulder with every other step.

 

“Red is there anyone on the other side?”  Emma asked as soon as they were pressed up against the palace wall.

 

Red cocked an ear as she snuffled along the small gap at the bottom of the door.  She stepped back and pawed at the ground twice before setting herself into a stance that seemed cautious but not ready to attack.

 

“Two people, most likely servants,” Emma breathed, unsheathing her own sword. “We go in on three.  I’ll get the door, Little John you first, Killian to the right, I’ll go to the left, Red last.”

 

“Why send our best bet in last?” Little John asked confused, glancing at Red.

 

“People are less likely to scream when they see you coming through the door,” Emma said with a grin.  She gripped the door handle.  Ready?  One, two…”

 

Emma mouthed three and pushed the door open.  Light spilled into the courtyard as they rushed inside.  They found themselves in the kitchens, still overwarm from the cooking of the night’s supper with the smell of roasted meat and overcooked cabbages hanging in the air.  As Red had warned there were two young women, scullery maids, inside staring at them with their mouths agape.  They didn’t move, caught in their surprise, until Red entered.  One of the maids was holding a pitcher that went tumbling from her hands accompanied by a tiny shriek as she caught sight of Red.  Before Killian could blink Little John’s quarterstaff shot out and neatly snagged the pitcher through the handle before it could smash to pieces on the stone floor.

 

“Nice catch, mate,” Killian said impressed.  Something caught his eye and he turned quickly to see the other maid grabbing hold of a large boning knife, “Put the knife down, love.  We’ll not hurt you unless you give us cause to.”

 

The maid hesitated.  He could see defiance simmering in the way she was holding herself and the knife.  She was still young enough to not have had years of servitude to temper her spirit.  It would have impressed him under other circumstances.

 

With a pang of regret he raised his sword, “Drop it.  I won’t ask again.”

 

A flare of anger lit up the maid’s eyes before she loosened her fingers and let the knife clatter to the ground.  Killian winced but ignored it, dashing for the maid who had opened her mouth to scream.  He barely had his hand over her lips before it sounded, powerful but muffled.  Cursing under his breath he wrestled her into his hold as she struggled violently against him.  Adjusting his hand he tightened his cover over her mouth and pinched her nose closed, cutting off her airways.  After several moments of her continued struggle, which had increased as she fought for breath, her energy finally flagged as she slackened in his arms.  When he was sure she had passed out completely he laid her out carefully on the floor.

 

He turned, breathing hard, to find the other maid bound and gagged seemingly without complaint.  Emma and Little John were heading over to him with rope that they had acquired from he knew not where and a rag that appeared to have been used to mop up a spill or two.  Red was guarding a staircase that Killian assumed led to a dining hall.

 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” He asked still gasping for air.

 

“I’m not sure, but Red will warn us if anyone is coming,” Emma said in a low voice bending over the unconscious maid’s feet.

 

They made quick work of trussing up the girl and securing both maids in a root cellar.  Little John easily lifted a cask of ale onto the trap door.  It was a clear sign that something was amiss but they hoped to be well away from the palace by the time it was discovered.

 

“Shall we continue?” Killian asked genially as he picked up his sword that he had dropped when quieting the maid.

 

“Lead the way,” Emma said with a nod.

 

Red backed out of his way as he approached the stairs.  She seemed unconcerned, if still alert.  He climbed the stairs confidently but cautiously with Red on his heels.  When he reached the top he paused and looked down at Red.  She wagged her tail once and gently nudged him forward with her head against his leg.

 

Even with Red’s encouragement he took caution as he looked out into what he confirmed was the palace dining hall.  There were no candles or torches lit, only the light of the moon streaming through the windows giving the hall an ethereal glow.  Five long tables ran the length of the hall with one raised on a dais overlooking them all, clearly meant for the Queen.  Her banner hung from the ceiling over every table at their ends and behind the Queen’s table.  Hanging along both walls were shields, all hung upside down and Killian realized with a start they were from kingdoms that were the Queen’s supposed allies.  Balliolshire’s was near their staircase on the opposite wall an angry red slash of paint smeared across it.

 

For all the grandeur before him he could easily see that no one had dined there in quite some time.  There was a fine layer of dust on the marble pedestal he was taking cover behind.  He could see the dust motes dancing in the air as he and the others moved further into the hall.  Without encouragement none of them spoke, Killian was sure that any noise above the slide of their feet would echo tremendously and bring guards down upon them.  He silently motioned them towards a door he spotted behind the dias, hoping that it led to an equally abandoned antechamber and not a guarded hallway.

 

The door protested on its hinges and with a cringe Kilian pushed it open only wide enough for them to pass through.  He quickly shut it behind Emma, plunging them into darkness.

 

“Where are we?” Emma whispered from somewhere in front of him.

 

“I’m not sure,” Little John answered from his right. “We’ve never raided the whole of the palace before.”

 

A light flared in front of his eyes and he threw his hand in front of his face against it.  When his sight adjusted he saw Emma glaring angrily at Little John, a small ball of light floating above her palm.

 

“I thought you knew the layout of the palace?” She accused, her voice a tight whisper.

 

“I only know what my son had told me from his time here as a stable boy and what Will has shared of his rescue of Belle.  We soon discovered the risk of learning the palace’s secrets far outweighed any gain.  It’s been years since any of us have dared come this close to the palace,” Little John rumbled.

 

“What do you mean?” Killian asked warily.  He could see that Little John’s knuckles were white around his quarterstaff.

 

“My son was the one who helped Will sneak in here for jewels and gold.  He looked up to him, more so than he did me.  When Will returned to the camp, bloodied and bruised, he had Belle in tow but not my Phillip.  The Queen had him hung the next morning as an example.  He was only fifteen.”

 

The light hovering over Emma’s palm flickered as sorrow colored her features.  Killian didn’t know what to say.  They had all suffered terrible losses at the hand of the Queen but each one was a burden of sorrow that no words could sooth.  He tightened his grip on his sword, his resolve to end the Queen once and for all stronger than ever.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said sincerely as she laid her hand on Little John’s arm.

 

“I agreed to help you so I could avenge my son.  Whatever the cost.”

 

Silence fell over them once again at Little John’s statement.  As Killian looked around at what he was satisfied to see was an antechamber he wondered how long it had taken for Little John to be able to tolerate Will’s presence.  There had seemed to be no animosity between the two but Killian knew firsthand that differences could be put aside to accomplish a common goal.  Thompson joining them at all was testament to that.

 

“This way,” Killian said pointing to a door across the room. “With luck it will lead us away from the guarded front entrance and towards the east wing.”

 

The door swung open somewhat more quietly than the one that led from the dining hall but was still not completely silent.  Killian paused on the threshold waiting for the sound of pounding boots and jangling chain mail to head their way.  After a few tense moments with Red pushing insistently on his leg he moved forward leading the others into the stark hallway.

 

They encountered no guards or servants as they made their way through the first floor of the palace.  He was able to direct the group easily, even without slight nudges from Red.  It seemed that all palaces had some things in common in their architecture when it came to the passages and rooms meant to remain unseen by anyone other than the inhabitants.  At one point they heard distant shouts and what Killian thought was the clanging of metal on metal but they continued on.  He hoped that those not with them were winning their fight, yet also that they would draw more guards to them and ease the way to the eastern tower.

 

Avoiding main thoroughfares they finally reached the easternmost point of the palace and a simple stone stairwell leading up.  It was clearly meant for servants to move about the palace being hardly wide enough to accommodate two people side by side let alone allow for the grandeur of the Queen to be on full display as she descended.  Killian had to hide a smirk as he tried to imagine the Queen’s high collars and elaborate gowns remaining unruffled in the tight passage.

 

As with the dining hall there was a thick layer of dust coating every surface.  Clearly no one had used the stairwell in some time.  It was both a blessing and a curse, they didn’t have to worry about someone stumbling upon them unexpectedly but their movements through the palace would be easy to track.  Much like with the barrel of ale in the kitchens Killian could only hope that they would be long gone before their tracks were discovered.

 

They emerged on the second floor with their shirts pulled up over their mouths and noses to try and stop a majority of the dust from entering their lungs.  Red wasn’t as fortunate and Killian tried not to scowl at her as she huffed and sneezed into the thick carpet at their feet, stirring up more dust as she did so.

 

“This has been too easy,” Emma murmured as she looked around him down the corridor they found themselves in.

 

“I agree, but from what we’ve been told and Red’s own special talents there weren’t many guards here despite the size of this place,” Killian turned to look around the corridor for himself.  The few tables and paintings along the walls were covered in thick white sheets, more signs that the Queen had all but abandoned her place of exile, “We may be lucky enough to not encounter another soul until-”

 

Killian cut himself off abruptly as a sudden movement to his right caught his eye.  He turned toward it with his sword raised, ready to strike and found himself confronting his own reflection.  Just as he was about to laugh at his own foolishness a sudden wash of horror came over him.  The mirror was the only thing uncovered and dust free in the entire corridor.  It gleamed brightly in the glow of the ball of light Emma still held in her palm.  Without second thought he strode over to it and wrenched it from the wall, and in the second before he smashed it to the ground he saw the Queen with gleeful smile looking back at him.

 

“What the hell, Jones!” Emma scolded harshly.  The harsh sound of breaking glass had seemingly rendered her need to whisper moot, “We’re trying to get through this place unnoticed!  I highly doubt anyone who heard that his going to ignore it.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Killian said, striding towards the next stairwell leading up. “We’ve been discovered.”

 

“Yeah, apparently by your vanity,” Emma said sarcastically.

 

“This is no game, Swan,” Killian said angrily, spinning back to face her. “You may have forgotten during your years at sea but the Queen has quite the affinity for reflective objects.  She knows we’re in the palace and she knows exactly where we are.  We need to move if we want to have any chance of getting to the tower before she sends every one of her guards to try and stop us.”

 

He didn’t wait for a response, not from her or Little John.  All pretense of sneaking through the palace unnoticed was abandoned the moment he had seen the Queen looking back at him.  He blamed himself for foolishly forgetting one of the most important things both his father and Liam had drilled into him since childhood: a mirror was never an innocent looking glass as long as the Queen held her power.

 

Without waiting for the others he began to climb the next stairwell.  They had some headway but it wouldn’t be much once the Queen directed her guards towards them.  He had no idea how many were engaged with the others that had come to the palace with them or how many would be guarding the tower.  His only solace was that they wouldn’t be caught by surprise.  Any ambush the guards might have made would be anticipated.

 

Before he even emerged on the third floor he could hear the guards’ approach.  Without hesitating he stepped onto the landing with his sword drawn, ready to engage.  There were four of them fanned out across the corridor, easy to see in the torchlight that had been absent on the lower floors, the black hood over their faces hiding their features.  He felt the others gather behind him but was caught by surprise by the sound of shattering glass.

 

“Another mirror,” Little John rumbled from behind him.

 

Killian didn’t turn to look, hoping the Queen hadn’t had a chance to spy on them some more.  The guards were advancing on them steadily but he gave no ground.  Their numbers were even and despite the close quarters he had no worry that they wouldn’t win the fight.  That was until he spied two more guards coming towards them from further down the corridor.

 

“We’re outnumbered,” Emma said calmly beside him. “If we can hold them off there’s another stairway behind us.  I can collapse it behind us.”

 

“Too risky,” Killian murmured, watching the tips of the guards’ swords as they inched closer to striking distance. “We’ll never be able to put enough distance between us and them to chance such a move.”

 

“You can if I stay,” Little John said stepping up to his left side as he gripped his quarterstaff horizontally in front of him. “I’ll hold them off, give you the time to close off that staircase, and with luck find a way to rejoin you.”

 

“That’s suicide,” Emma gasped.

 

“Whatever the cost,” Little John said grimly.

 

Killian looked up at the hulking man and saw the determined set of his jaw.  Little John nodded at him without glancing down and Killian understood.  He knew wouldn’t get close to the Queen but helping Emma in any way he could, even if it meant his death, would satisfy his need for vengeance.  Killian wondered if under the same circumstances his own thirst for revenge could be so easily quelled.

 

“Then let me help you,” Emma said as she stepped out in front of them all.

 

With a sweep of her hand the guards toppled over in a blast of white light.  The two further down the corridor stumbled but remained upright, shaking their heads.

 

“Thank you kindly, lass,” Little John said with a grin.

 

“I’m not sure if it knocked them out or just knocked them down,” Emma said apologetically.

 

They got their answer as the guards on the ground began to stir.  Killian pulled Emma back as Little John stepped forward.

 

“Go,” Little John urged them, his grip tightening and loosening.

 

Red’s nails clacked on the stone behind Killian as he and Emma backed away from Little John.  They watched as he struck out with his quarterstaff and knocked out two of the guards quickly.  He barely had time to bring it back up in defense as the other two from down the corridor reached him and attempted to slash at him with their swords.  The two guards still conscious on the ground were beginning to stand as Killian got one last glimpse of Little John fighting before turning to climb the next stairwell.

 

Halfway up Emma sent a blast of magic at the ceiling behind them as they ran up the steps.  Killian didn’t look back to see the extent of the damage.  Red had reached the next level before them and judging by her growls they weren’t alone.

 

Skidding onto the landing Killian found himself in a corridor that was half the size of the floors below it.  It was brightly lit and empty, save for a doorway and the man guarding it.  He was dressed in the armor the guards wore but had no helmet, his curly brown hair and dark beard a stark contrast to the black clothed anonymous faces that his brethren wore.  In his hand was not a sword but a short knife that glinted brightly in the torchlight.

 

“I can’t allow you to pass.”

 

The man’s accent was one Killian hadn’t heard before but sounded quite similar to his.  He shook his head against the strange thought and brought up his sword.

 

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what we mean to do, mate,” Killian said, amused despite himself that the man thought he alone could stop them. “You’re outnumbered and we’ve a wolf on our side.  If I were you I’d lay down the knife and allow us to continue on our way unimpeded.”

 

Red growled, her legs splayed but remained where she was.  He wondered why she was hesitating when she had showed no compunction in going after the guard outside the palace.

 

“It’s a silver knife,” Emma whispered behind him in horror. “It could kill her.”

 

The man across from them smiled but there was no pleasure in it.  Killian almost believed it to be apologetic if it weren’t for the unwavering knife pointing in their direction.

 

“I don’t wish to hurt you but I have my orders,” the man said steadily.

 

“I commend your loyalty but even you can see that the odds are stacked against you.  Silver knife or not you’re still outnumbered,” Killian stepped beside Red and then in front of her, closing the distance between him and the man.

 

“Not for long.”

 

From the far end of the corridor the sound of guards climbing an unseen staircase reached him.  He wondered if they were the ones they had left behind with Little John or different ones but had barely finished the thought when the unmasked guard rushed him.

 

Despite being clad in the heavy, cumbersome armor of the Queen’s guards he was quick on his feet.  Killian was barely able to block the first slash of the knife before the man spun to the side and grazed his left arm, leaving a long bloody trail in its wake.

 

He swore but ignored the pain as he turned to try and force the man between him and Red.  Instead the man backed up and watched him carefully, as though judging his form and finding it lacking.  Three guards poured into the corridor, swords already drawn and Killian was reminded of ants crawling out of their anthill one trailing behind the other following mindless orders to do what their queen demanded of them.

 

The guards’ arrival was enough to distract him from the man in front of him.  He felt the hot agony of the knife driving into his sword arm, right below the elbow.  His sword clattered to the ground as his hand involuntarily let it go.  He wrenched his arm down as he twisted to the side and with a modicum of luck forced the man to release his hold on the knife.  Gritting his teeth he pulled the knife from his arm, down one weapon but gaining the one that truly mattered at the moment.

 

Red wasted no time in her attack of the brunette guard.  She launched herself at him like a cannon shot and he barely had time to raise his arm against her.  Killian heard a deep pop and an agonized yell as Red and the guard tumbled to the ground.  Her jaws were locked on the leather brace above his wrist, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle from his shoulder.  She roughly shook her head causing the guard to moan as he tried to strike her with his free fist.  Yet for all her aggression Red wasn’t making a move to kill him.

 

“Red!”

 

Emma’s warning was too late.  One of the guards who had come up the stairs had reached Red and managed to strike her flank.  Immediately blood welled from the deep cut as she yelped out in pain.  Killian didn’t stop to think as his rage consumed him and he charged the guard.  Only the guard’s singular focus on Red allowed him close enough to slide the silver knife between the man’s ribs and twist it as he pulled it free.  The guard dropped to his feet in a heap, bleeding heavily across the stone floor.

 

Someone grasped at his foot and Killian kicked out, connecting solidly with the skull of the unmasked guard.  His head snapped back and Killian was satisfied to see that he had rendered the man unconscious.  He had little time to revel in it as the second guard was quickly upon him, the third charging Red.

 

They grappled over the knife in Killian’s hand, which was beginning to weaken from his injury, his grip slippery from his blood.  Suddenly he lost his balance as he tripped over a limb from one of the guards on the floor.  He stumbled, falling to one knee as he braced himself against whatever strike the remaining guard would make.  A bright flash of light blinded him and when his vision cleared the two guards were at the end of the corridor in a crumpled heap at the base of the wall.  Killian turned and blearily looked up to see Emma lowering her hands with a fierce look upon her face.

 

“Much obliged, love.  He nearly had me there,” Killian said with a weak grin.

 

As the fiery need to fight left him Killian could feel his injuries more acutely.  He swayed and dropped unceremoniously to the floor, catching himself from falling to the floor completely with his right hand sending a bolt of agony up his arm.

 

“Shit, Killian!” Emma gasped as she stumbled toward him over the bodies.

 

“‘M alright, Swan, jus’ need a m-ment is ’ll,” he tried to sound collected but his words had turned to mush.

 

“Shh,” she said gently as she knelt beside him. “Hold still.”

 

Emma held her hand over his arm, the glow from her palm bright and warm.  Within moments the pain was gone and as her hand moved to his other arm he saw there was nothing left behind to indicate he had been stabbed at all.  As the light died he took in a shaky breath and pulled her to him in a fierce hug.

 

Kissing her temple he murmured in her ear, “Thanks, love, it didn’t even sting.”

 

Emma shook her head, burying her nose into his neck.  He held her close for a moment before she pushed herself away.  Red was licking at her wound and Emma crawled over scolding her as she went.  Killian busied himself with dragging the two unconscious guards at the end of the hallway together and searching the corridor for something to bind them with.  He was contemplating cutting up a tapestry to do the job when he heard footsteps running up the far stairs.

 

Quickly retrieving his sword he planted himself halfway down the corridor, in front of the closed door, and waited.  He could feel Emma and Red at his back, ready for the next fight.  Shifting to the balls of his feet he anxiously awaited the next wave of attack.  When Pinocchio and Thompson emerged from the stairwell he sagged in relief.

 

“It’s good to see you lads,” Killian called to them with a small smile that quickly turned to a frown, “but where is everybody else?”

 

“Robin is helping Little John-”

 

“He’s alive?” Emma asked, interrupting Pinocchio.

 

“Aye, a bit worse for wear but he’s alive,” Thompson answered. “Much like the rest of us it seems.”

 

Thompson and Pinocchio were both breathing heavy and nearly dripping in sweat.  Pinocchio had a rag spotted with blood wrapped around his hand and his limp was back as they made their way towards them.  As for Thompson he had the beginnings of a black eye and a shallow cut that spanned from his temple to his jaw, the wound already scabbing over.  Killian realized that despite being healed he probably looked far worse to them, both of his shirt sleeves were soaked in his blood.

 

“Emma healed us,” he said, waving away what concern they might have had.

 

“I can heal you too,” Emma said, already lifting her hand towards them.

 

“If you insist,” Thompson said already leaning down towards her.

 

“The others?” Killian asked somewhat impatient as Emma worked her magic.

 

“Only Robin and us made it this far.  We were met by a large group of the guards near the front entrance.  The others insisted we keep going,” Pinocchio explained, wincing as Emma unraveled his hasty bandage. “We were caught unawares on the second floor.  They got Will, a sword clean through his leg.  We were lucky Roland had joined us by then.  After we took care of the guards he promised to get Will out of there.  I’m not sure about the rest.”

 

“That explains why we met no resistance until the third floor,” Killian mused.  He looked at the pack slung over Pinocchio’s shoulder, “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple of lengths of rope in there would you, mate?”

 

“I do,” Pinocchio said, sparing a glance at the two guards slumped against each other, the unmasked one, and the third left where he had perished, “Although I figured we’d use it to escape not show them mercy.”

 

“Oh, I don’t intend to be merciful.  I have a feeling one of them will talk, it’s only a matter of how long until they do,” Killian said grimly.

 

Pinocchio slung the pack to the ground.  As he dug through it Red came to his side and gently pulled out her cloak, the corner of which was poking out the top.  Killian watched as Emma quickly covered her with the cloak, wondering why Red was transforming back.  As the wolf painfully became woman once again his confusion grew as she stumbled to the unmasked guard’s side as her bones were still shifting back in place.

 

“Red?” Emma asked, sounding just as confused as he felt.

 

“The Huntsman,” she gasped, shuddering. “He’s the Huntsman.”

 

“You know him?”  Emma asked incredulously.

 

“I did,” Red nodded as she bent close to the Huntsman’s chest nodding again at what she heard. “He saved your mother’s life, and mine, a long time ago.  I thought Regina would have crushed his heart by now.”

 

“He’s one of the Queen’s heartless pawns?” Killian asked alarmed.

 

If there was one thing he learned was more dangerous than carelessly leaving a mirror lying around it was what the Queen could do if she possessed a person’s heart.  He had already been at the Academy a few years before someone had told him of the complete loss of agency when someone with magic ripped out a heart.  The victims were forced to perform acts that no man or woman in their right mind would do, damaging secrets they held were spilled without second thought, and they were more effective than a mirror for the heart’s holder to spy upon.  Despite already being a young man believing himself to be above such things he’d had nightmares about a clawed hand ripping out his heart for weeks.

 

“As long as he’s knocked out we’ll be fine.  By the way he was acting Regina most likely gave him an order and left him to it.  If you really did see Regina in that mirror she’ll be focusing more on finding another near us to use,” Red looked up and down the corridor. “I’ll stay here and watch them.”

 

“What? No!  We’ll tie them up and keep going.  All of us,” Emma said angrily.

 

“And what if more guards come?” Red asked patiently. “I can easily take care of anyone that comes this way and if the Huntsman wakes up I might be able to talk to him, see if there’s anything he can tell us.”

 

“You’ll believe he’ll talk?” Thompson asked, his skepticism plain on his face.

 

“I do,” Red said fervently. “Even under Regina’s control he’s found ways to fight against her.”

 

“I don’t like it,” Emma said with a scowl.

 

“Someone needs to stay behind and make sure you don’t get attacked from behind.  I’m the best choice,” Red placed her hand on Emma’s arm and gave her a gentle smile. “You know it’s true.”

 

“Fine but you better hope they don’t have more silver knives,” Emma said petulantly.

 

“Let’s make quick work of tying them up,” Killian said, feeling ill at ease at how long they’d been standing in the corridor talking.  He pulled the ropes from Pinocchio’s hand, “We’ve already lingered too long.”

 

He made sure to make the bindings around the Huntsman’s ankles and wrists extra tight.  Red may have believed in the Huntsman but Killian couldn’t find it in him to forgive the man for stabbing him.  As he worked Pinocchio and Thompson drug the body of the dead guard to the end of the corridor and unceremoniously dumped it down the collapsed stairwell.  Red and Emma winced as it thudded down the stairs.  Killian merely grimaced and went back to his knots.

 

Finally they stood before the closed door behind which could only lead to the tower they had been seeking.  There was no guarantee that there was even a prisoner waiting for them but the Huntsman’s presence was a big indication that something of importance would be at the top.  Killian knew the Queen wouldn’t have placed one of her longest held puppets as a guard to nothing.

 

“Red, are you  _ sure _ you want to stay here?” Emma asked, her hand loosely holding onto the door handle. “You’ll be able to hear anyone coming even if you’re up there with us.  We don’t need you to question the Huntsman right away, we can just bring him-”

 

“Emma, I won’t be able to maneuver up there and you know it,” Red said gently. “Whoever or whatever is up there you are strong enough to handle.  The longer you waste time down here the harder it will be to get up there and find out what’s waiting for you.”

 

Red pulled Emma into a brief hug and then propelled her back to the door.  As Emma gripped the handle once more Killian held his breath.  He wasn’t sure if the Queen would have put an enchantment on the door even though logically he knew she couldn’t have.  The servants would have had to take the prisoner food and couldn’t very well do it if there was a curse that would be unleashed upon opening the door.  His worries were for naught, the door swung open without resistance or triggering a defensive spell.  He heard Pinocchio and Red breathe out sighs of relief that matched his own.

 

The stairwell was dimly lit by flickering torchlight.  The stairs themselves spiraled up the tower, keeping what was at the top from being seen.  Killian had no idea how far up the stairs went but Red had been right, she wouldn’t have had much room to move.  Their climb had to be done single file.

 

Emma tentatively stepped on the first riser.  When nothing happened she looked back at them briefly then unsheathed her sword and started her ascent.  Killian followed quickly, unwilling to allow her to proceed without his support for even a moment.

 

They climbed as quickly as they could while keeping their footsteps light.  Before he knew it they reached the top.  There was a small landing, barely large enough to fit the four of them, and another door.  A thick beam of wood lay across it, barring the occupant from leaving.  There was no other indication that more measures were in place to prevent an escape, not even a sign that a guard was meant to be stationed there.

 

“Let me, love,” Killian said quietly, stepping towards the door.

 

Emma nodded, her eyes never leaving the wood as he lifted the beam and set it aside.  He could see her hand shaking as she reached for the handle.  She cast a glance at him and he gave her an encouraging nod.  For all that he wanted to wrench the door open for her he knew she needed to open it herself.

 

The door opened silently into a room that was even more dimly lit than the stairwell.  Standing directly across from them was a man.  He was dressed in rags, his skin beginning to wrinkle with age, grey seeding his blonde hair, but Killian could see Emma in his face.  Yet something was not quite right and Emma was rushing into the room before he could stop her.

 

“Daddy!”

 

“Emma wait!”

 

Emma approached her father with her arms outstretched, not heeding Killian’s warning.  She didn’t notice what Killian had, that Prince David wasn’t even there.  It was just his image, somehow reflected back to them through a floor length mirror that was attached to the stone wall.  Killian could see the heartbreak in the man’s eyes as Emma’s fingers connected with nothing but cold, unfeeling glass.

 

“No, no, Daddy, no.”

 

Emma’s voice shook with tears as she ran her hands across the mirror and the frame it was set in.  Prince David’s hand was pressed flat up against it, tears of his own running down his face.

 

“My Swan Princess,” David’s unsteady voice was distorted, sounding as though he was speaking into a bottle. “I knew you’d be just as beautiful as your mother someday.”

 

“We came to rescue you,” Emma hiccupped.

 

“I know, sweetheart,” David gave her a watery smile. “Regina has done this before, to your mother.  She’s kept me at our castle, in our dungeons, this whole time.  I’m so sorry Emma.”

 

“I’ll come for you,” Emma said fiercely, wiping at the tears that kept falling as she kept one hand against the image of David’s.

 

“I know you will,” David’s smile became firm. “I love you, Emma, so much. I know you’ll find me.”

 

“I will, Daddy, I wi-”

 

Emma broke off with a gasp as Killian pulled her hand quickly from the mirror.  David’s image was gone and the Queen’s was in his place.

 

“That was getting a little too sentimental for my tastes,” the Queen sneered, her blood red lips curling up malevolently.

 

“You bitch,” Emma growled, shaking off Killian’s hand. “I’m going to kill you.”

 

“Why not go ahead and do it?  That is if you care to notice that you’re not alone in that tower,” the Queen’s eyes widened in mock shock and laughed.

 

Killian turned and only noticed Pinocchio and Thompson just inside the door.  Then a slight movement caught his eye.  There was indeed someone else with them, they were huddled against the wall farthest away from them.  He couldn’t tell in the dim light but it appeared to be a woman, her long dark hair falling loose and wild about her shoulders.

 

“Why don’t you show them who you are, my pretty?” The Queen called out.

 

The woman, for it was a woman, looked up at them and Killian felt his stomach drop to his toes.  She had no makeup on, was wearing nothing but a cloth sack, and was chained to the floor but there was no mistaking her.  Looking up at them was the evil Queen, broken in body and spirit, while simultaneously the Queen behind them laughed in delight.

 

“Who are you?” Killian snapped bringing his sword to the woman’s throat.  His anger at the trickery outweighed his fear that they had grossly underestimated their situation, “Answer me!”

 

“Go ahead, dear.  I think I’ll enjoy hearing the story from your mouth,” the Queen behind them taunted.  The woman bowed her head, “No?  Alright then Regina, I guess I’ll have to tell it myself.”

 

He turned back to the mirror.  The Queen in it pulled at a fine gold chain around her neck, an odd crystal with a green flaw hanging from it.  She fingered at the charm and the air around her shimmered.  The image of the Queen melted away leaving behind a gleefully smiling woman whose hair was a shock of red that contrasted with her skin which was a vivid shade of green.

 

“That’s much better,” the green witch said gleefully.  Her voice had changed along with her visage, a bit deeper and accented, “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to be myself.”

 

“Who are you?” Emma asked shakily.

 

“Zelena, the one who should rightfully be sitting on the throne,” Zelena’s eyes flashed. “I’ve been able to do what my darling sister couldn’t.”

 

“Your sister?” Pinocchio stepped into the room, glancing between the woman on the floor and the woman in the mirror.

 

“A pathetic excuse for one I should say.  Couldn’t even cast a curse properly,” Zelena scoffed. “By the time I found her she was holed up here still plotting her revenge.  She had every opportunity that I never had to make something of herself and she failed.  So I did it for her.

 

“It was easy to take back the kingdom she’d let slip through her fingers.  I made her watch as the soldiers under  _ my  _ orders stormed Misthaven’s castle, as  _ I  _ imprisoned the two thorns in her side, and finally I’ve let her see that  _ I _ did what she couldn’t.  I’m getting  _ my _ happy ending while she has nothing.

 

“Now that you’re here Captain Swan I can take the final steps to my happiness.  I really must thank my, what did you call them Prince Killian, ‘heartless pawns’?  He’s been essential in getting you to this tower.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Killian growled, dread gnawing at his stomach.

 

“The spy, the one you stopped looking for months ago, he’s been feeding me information for so much longer than you suspected,” Zelena’s smile was wide, her expression full of triumph. She brought her left hand out from behind her back, a bright red heart was in her grasp.  Keeping her eyes on them she bent and whispered into it, “Take care of the puppet.”

 

Killian heard the dull thump of metal hitting flesh and spun around to see Thompson with his sword held aloft as Pinocchio crumpled to the floor.  Thompson’s eyes were full of shame, regret, pain, and above all, guilt.

 

“Tommy?”

 

His boyhood nightmares had come true and he had been none the wiser.  He felt as if his own heart was being ripped from his chest as Thompson walked towards him, tears standing in his eyes.

 

“I wanted you to kill him but I’ll take care of that later,” Zelena said flippantly. “He’s found the most creative ways to disobey my orders.  When I had him kill his lover he had the audacity to hide her pack before I realized she had one.  I nearly lost my hold over him after that little job.  He must have really loved her.”

 

Killian’s grasp faltered on the hilt of his sword as he brought it up towards Thompson’s chest.  The tears in Thompson’s eyes fell as he stopped a hairsbreadth away from the point.

 

“I’m sorry Kil, I tried to tell you a thousand times in a thousand different ways but she always stopped me.  After I kil-” Thompson let out a shuddering breath- “killed Brighid I thought if I distanced myself from you she’d let me go.  She forced me to suggest coming Sherwood Forest instead.”

 

“Further punishment for disobeying me,” Zelena chimed in. “I had hoped that you’d run into his father but that lazy sod never leaves his estate anymore.  I could tell you were going to decide to turn around and go back to Arendelle.  That was unacceptable.”

 

“When, Tommy?” Killian asked, paying no heed to Zelena’s words, a knot forming in his throat.

 

“When we first arrived in Misthaven and I went to the castle in your stead,” Thompson’s tears were flowing freely.

 

“The whole time?” Killian’s voice broke as tears of his own gathered in his eyes.

 

“Yes,” Thompson whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Kil.  I hope that someday you can forgive-”

 

Thompson cut off with a choked gasp, his eyes wide locking onto Killian’s in sudden awareness, pained and frightened.  Killian dropped his sword, barely catching Thompson in his arms as he collapsed.

 

“Tommy?” Killian slid to the ground and shook Thompson’s shoulders. “Tommy!  Please, no. No, no, no.”

 

He heard triumphant laughter followed by the sound of glass breaking.  He felt the rush of Emma’s power as she lit the room and her hands on his back trying to comfort him.  He could see Thompson, pale and unmoving, gone where he could not follow.  Hot tears slid down his face as he tried in vain to revive his friend, his brother, through sheer will.

 

“Killian.”

 

Emma’s voice was soft, careful and laced with sorrow.  He shook his head, unwilling to give up.

 

“Killian, he’s gone.”

 

“No, there has to be something,” he turned to her, frantic. “Your magic!  Emma, please, use your magic!”

 

“I can’t,” she said looking at him as though she wanted nothing more than to be able to. “Even if I could she crushed his heart.”

 

“You!” Killian pushed up to his knees, shrugging off Emma’s touch, and faced the broken woman still chained to the floor. “Bring him back.  It’s because of you any of this has happened.”

 

Regina looked up at him and he saw nothing of the great sorceress she claimed to be in her gaze.

 

“Killian,” Emma said pleading as she placed her hand on his arm.

 

“No, Swan,” he shook her off again. “You can’t tell me that none of us would be here if she hadn’t gone after your mother in the first place.  Everything, every single thing that has been taken from us is because of her.  She can make this right, she has to make this right.”

 

“Magic can’t bring back the dead,” Regina’s voice cracked with disuse but vehement.

 

“Shut your mouth,” Killian growled, grabbing his sword as he got to his feet and bore down on her. “You studied under the Dark One, surely he told you of a way.”

 

“No, there isn’t.  Your friend is beyond the help of magic.”

 

“There must be a forgotten spell,” he started pacing, banging the flat of his sword on his leg.

 

“Killian,” Emma said softly but he ignored her.

 

“Something, anything.”

 

“Killian, Thompson is dead!”

 

Emma’s voice rang out in the small room.  She was looking at him with wide eyes as though she was shocked by her own words.  He felt something in him break at that, some piece of himself that he’d never get back.

 

“I can’t, Emma, he can’t be.”

 

Killian looked down at Thompson, his mind refusing to reconcile the cooling body with the joking, stubborn, loyal, heartfelt man he’d grown up with.  Then suddenly he could and a despair so deep and all encompassing grabbed hold of him and brought him to his knees.  Through his harsh sobs he could hear Emma whispering in his ear, holding him to her but there was only one thought that kept him from drowning completely.

 

Zelena would die by his hand, no matter the cost.


	20. The Greater Good

“You believe her when she says she knows nothing?”

 

“She’s been in that tower for sixteen years.  From what we’ve seen I doubt Zelena was in a sharing mood, of any kind.”

 

“Her magic?”

 

“The cuff on her wrist stops it somehow.  We’re keeping it on for now.”

 

“For now? So you’re beginning to trust her?”

 

“No.  I don’t know.”

 

“The Huntsman?”

 

“Still alive.  He’s being kept on the second floor, away from Regina, and only has contact with Red.”

 

“Is he talking?”

 

“No, but we don’t expect him to.  Zelena is keeping him alive for some reason and we need to figure out why.”

 

Killian tuned out the rest of Emma and Granny’s conversation.  The old woman had shown up at the palace that morning with twenty men and women in tow.  After enthusiastic greetings were exchanged they had sent most of the people to the kitchens below.  A select few joined them in a large room that Emma had protected and fortified with her magic to strategize against Zelena.  None of it mattered to Killian: not the taking of the palace, their prisoners, Granny’s arrival, not when Thompson’s killer remained unpunished.

 

A week had passed since Thompson’s death.  They had defeated the guards handily, imprisoning them and the few servants that had served the palace.  Thompson wasn’t the only one they had lost that night but for Killian he was the only one that mattered.  After they had buried the dead the next morning he had been ready to mount a horse and go after Zelena immediately.  Only Emma’s pleading and her cooler head had been able to convince him to wait until they knew more and had a better plan than storming up to Zelena’s gate with nothing but a sword.

 

Once they had a firm hold on the palace Emma had been quick to send messages to Granny and Elsa informing them of what had happened and where they had ended up.  With Killian’s help she had also sent one to Liam.  She had held his hand as he’d dictated what he had wanted to say in halting sentences and around a block in his throat.  Killian wasn’t sure if his own voice would be what Liam heard when he learned of Thompson’s fate but it was a minor comfort to believe that it would be.

 

Elsa’s reply had been swift and encouraging.  She had promised to aid in their search for any information on exactly who Zelena was and about the land Regina had told them she hailed from, a place called Oz.  There was also Elsa’s future promise of Arendelle soldiers when the time came for them.  Her previous hesitance to help them in that regard had apparently vanished in the wake of the revelation that Zelena had plans far beyond keeping control of Misthaven.

 

The information provided to them by Regina when they questioned her had been simultaneously helpful and worthless.  Regina and Zelena were half sisters through their mother.  Zelena had been sent away for being illegitimate, her existence unknown until she had attacked Regina’s palace with swift fury, catching Regina off guard and winning the battle before it had even begun.  Regina had been locked in the tower, ignored and ridiculed in equal measure, taunted for being a worthless pupil of the Dark One when Zelena had crowed about being leagues above her.  Years had passed but Zelena hadn’t seen fit to share what her ‘happy ending’ consisted of.  At least according to Regina.

 

Emma had seemed to believe her and had become the woman’s defender of sorts.  Killian couldn’t find it in himself to be so forgiving.  Zelena had paraded around in the guise of Regina for nearly two decades for a reason.  The most recent acts of atrocity might have been performed by Zelena but it was Regina who had set the precedent for such acts to be committed.  He had voiced his opinion on the matter loudly and often but found himself rebutted by not only Emma but by Robin and Red as well.  Will was his only ally; Belle had been Regina’s prisoner long before Zelena’s takeover.

 

After Emma had healed him Will had warmed slightly towards her, until she had tried to reason with him about what he called Regina’s soft treatment.  They had been settling in the palace, claiming various rooms and Will had been furious that Regina not only had a room as well but nearly unrestrained freedom to move about.  She was constantly guarded and forbidden from going near the Huntsman’s improvised cell or out on the grounds, but had unfettered access otherwise.  The argument had escalated to a shouting match ending with Emma ordering Will to leave and Will doing just that.  He hadn’t gone far, merely set up a tent in the north courtyard and called himself the voice of reason during their strategy sessions advocating for harsher punishment for Regina and immediate retaliation on Zelena.

 

Killian had found himself more often than not in Will’s company, sharing a flask of rum between them.  The rum and their opinions weren’t the only thing they shared.  Killian had joined Will in his courtyard tent after spending three sleepless nights roaming the halls of the palace.  He had started out the nights lying in the bed he had shared with Emma, closing his eyes and holding her close, but as soon as her breathing evened out and her body relaxed he would slip out from under her arm and away from her comforting presence.  He didn’t feel he deserved it.

 

The night hours had passed with him haunting the hallways like the ghosts of the memories he had been trying to escape.  On the fourth night he’d murmured an exhausted apology into Emma’s temple, assuring her he wouldn’t be going far, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before grabbing his pack, leaving her without any real explanation for his sudden departure.  There hadn’t been time since for her to confront him about it and he dreaded trying to put his feelings into words when she did.

 

“Killian!”

 

“Huh, what?” He said dumbly, startled back from his wandering thoughts to the faces staring at him expectantly.

 

His gaze flitted from Emma frowning at him from across the table to Robin, Roland, and a smirking Will on one side and Granny, Grumpy, Red, and Pinocchio on the other.  There were others, some faces he marginally recognized and some he didn’t but they meant next to nothing to him.

 

“Will your brother help us when the time comes?” Granny asked him, amusement dancing in her eyes.

 

“I’m sure he will but coordinating the attack will be near impossible even with the speed of Emma’s messages.  Who knows how long his responses will take to reach us,” Killian patiently explained, once again.  He’d said as much to Emma, Robin, and Will on separate occasions and had to bite his tongue against tacking on a sarcastic remark, “We’re still waiting for a response to the message we sent nearly a week ago.”

 

“Yeah, who’s to say when a king has any bloody time to write his murderous and wayward brother,” Will said, grinning widely when half the room gasped.

 

He shook his head and ignored Will’s teasing.  Against Robin’s wishes Killian had given his true name to the Merry Men the morning they had stood over freshly dug graves.  Zelena knew he was there, if any of the men had wanted to collect the reward on his head it would just give him an opportunity to get close to her or be shipped back to his brother.  Both were equally tempting prospects.

 

“I’m sorry, but I thought those wanted posters were lying,” a small, feminine voice sounded from the group of people Killian didn’t know.

 

“They are...” he said slowly, trying to spot who had spoken up.

 

“Then why did he say that?”

 

It was a blonde lass, dressed in much nicer clothes than the rest of them.  She had delicate features and a softness that belied her age.  If she was older than twenty-three Killian would have eaten one of his wanted posters.

 

“Because he’s a right ass, who thinks he’s funny,” Killian answered. “And who are you?”

 

“Oh! I’m Charlotte.  My sister wanted to be here too but our parents forbid it.  They didn’t want to risk losing both their heirs,” Charlotte said in a sad tone but her smile said otherwise.

 

“Princess Charlotte,” Granny said pointedly, turning to fix the girl with a stern look, “is the daughter of King Thomas and Princess Ella who snuck away to join us.  By the time I realized she had come along we were too far away to send her back.”

 

Killian looked back at Charlotte and realized that he had met her before.  As he looked more closely at the others he was shocked to discover he truly recognized a few of the other people there.  There was Queen Ariel and King Eric’s third son Lucas, Queen Abagail and Prince Fredrick’s twins Sophie and Josef, and a couple of dukes, cousins of Princess Margaret, from Glowerhaven.  There were only two people he didn’t recognize: an older, stern faced black man in armor and a middle aged, brown haired woman with a basket on her arm and a dog at her feet.

 

“You’ve collected quite the assortment of royal blood, love.  I’m almost insulted you don’t have my third cousin Pieter following in your wake.  He never could stay away from trouble,” Killian deadpanned.

 

“Hmph, he and his brothers have nothing but cotton between their ears,” Granny grumbled, fixing him with a beady eye. “I haven’t been idle all these years, Your Highness, and you’d do well to remember that.”

 

Killian dropped his eyes at the clear chastisement.  He could hear snickering around the table, mostly from Will at his right, but quickly looked back up at Granny to give her a small nod.  She had done what they could not and had begun gathering the people needed to take back Misthaven.  Through her machinations it appeared Emma’s fight to take back the crown was supported by more than just the commoners.  It hadn’t escaped his notice that of the people gathered in the room with them and those sent down to the kitchens that none seemed to be from Camelot or Balliolshire.

 

“Is there nothing more you can tell us of this Zelena or of Oz?  Something that hasn’t sprung from the lips of the Evil Queen?” A deep voice asked and Killian saw the dark skinned knight step forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

 

“You don’t believe what Regina’s told us?” Emma asked with a raised brow. “After I’ve just told you that she knows nothing else?”

 

“She may have told some truths and kept others to herself.  Being kept locked in a tower for all those years could not have left her unaffected, not the Evil Queen.  She went after your mother for a child’s mistake of spilling a secret.  I have no doubt she has a plan for going after the woman who imprisoned her and reined in her magic,” the knight answered.

 

“Who are you that you presume to know so much about my mother and Regina?” Emma was getting angry, Killian could hear it in the tightness of her voice.  He’d heard it when she talked to him more often than not in recent days.  When she did talk to him that was.

 

“My name is Lancelot, Your Highness, and I’ve known your parents and about their feud with the Evil Queen since before you were born.  Even you are wary of her, or you wouldn’t have her kept her magic tamped down by some cuff and under the watch of a guard,” Lancelot approached Emma, towering over her as she glared up at him. “It was hard to miss her watching our arrival from a second floor balcony.  You’re just like your mother, offering leniency in hopes your trust won’t be broken.  I can only hope that you don’t experience the same harsh lesson your mother did.  Or did she not tell you why the Evil Queen was banished here in the first place?”

 

Killian sat back impressed.  Lancelot was unmoving under the force of Emma’s scowl.  He could feel Will shifting in his seat beside him and knew that the same thoughts were occurring to him.  They had found another ally.

 

“I may know a thing or two about Oz, as it were,” Will said with nonchalance, glancing at Robin quickly.

 

“As do I,” Robin sighed, “A bit more about Zelena as well.”

 

“And I know more than all of you about both,” the woman with the dog chimed in.  She walked up to stand behind Red’s chair, “This Evil Queen or Regina or whatever you call her doesn’t seem to be a threat.  Zelena is.  She’s dangerous, powerful, and quite possibly out of her mind.  Not exactly a combination we should take lightly.”

 

“Dorothy, do you know her?” Red asked concerned, spinning around in her seat.

 

“She’s the reason I came to this land,” Dorothy answered grimly. “The people of Oz were relieved when she disappeared, relieved but still wary.  As the years passed they grew to believe she was gone for good, if not dead.  I wasn’t so sure.

 

“Zelena had terrorized Oz for decades.  For her to abandon what she fought tooth and nail to keep for herself without a single threat against us?  I knew something wasn’t right.  I went to her castle and it was abandoned, even by her stupidly loyal guards.  The only clue I found was a scrap of paper with the words ‘Enchanted Forest’ scribbled on it shoved between pages of a book.  I learned it was a land far from Oz and made my way here.  That was eleven years ago and this is the first time I’ve heard Zelena’s name spoken by someone other than me.”

 

“Do you know what she plans to do?  What this ‘happy ending’ she mentioned could be?” Emma asked hopefully.

 

“I have no idea,” Dorothy said apologetically. “I just know she’ll stop at nothing to get what she feels she deserves.  Whatever this happy ending is she’ll destroy anyone who tries to stop her.”

 

“Which is why we should go after her now,” Killian broke in hotly, ready to take up arms and lead whoever would follow him. “We have to stop her before she makes any headway on whatever it is she’s planning or before she kills anyone else.”

 

“Killian, did you hear what Dorothy just said?  She’s dangerous, probably more so than Regina ever was and we can’t risk attacking her without knowing what we could be going up against,” Emma pleaded.

 

“Obviously he heard her,” Will sneered. “I agree with Killian, we should strike while the gettin’s good and we have some sort of surprise on our side.  In fact, let’s question that bloody heartless slave of hers with a bit of force and get him to talk.”

 

“And risk Zelena killing him?” Emma asked, her shock apparent even though Will had been touting the same sentiment for days.

 

“He’s as good as dead anyway,” Will said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t see why we shouldn’t get a bit of information out of him while we can.”

 

“Are you going to use the lash or a hot poker?  I can’t believe you, Scarlet!”

 

The torches along the walls flared brightly all at once.  Emma clenched her fists on the table and Killian watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  He imagined her slowly counting to ten as the flames settled and her hands relaxed.  When she opened her eyes she looked directly at him.

 

“And you?  Do you think torturing the Huntsman will get us the answers you want?”

 

“No,” he said, earning a scoff from Will and a small smile from Emma.  He hated that he had more to say, “Torture won’t work but neither is having Red patiently wait for him to say anything at all.  Will’s right, the Huntsman is living on borrowed time.  We need to find out what he knows before Zelena disposes of him for being of no use to her anymore.”

 

“Killian,” Emma whispered sounding hurt.

 

“I’m sorry, Swan, but I- we need to know what Zelena’s plans are.”

 

Killian kept his gaze on Emma, his gut churning as he watched her wrestle with what she was feeling.  He knew their differences in opinion would come to a head at some point but he had hoped it could have waited until they weren’t surrounded by prying eyes.  She was governed by her good heart, her treatment of Regina was testament to that.  As for him when Thompson had died he had learned that his heart was leagues away from being as good as hers.  He felt the need to exact painful revenge on Zelena constantly coursing through his veins like a flame set to spilled rum.  It was all consuming and even though he knew it would leave nothing but ash in its wake he embraced the fire.  His only concern was that Emma would see the flames in his eyes and turn away, leaving him to burn.

 

She didn’t let her eyes drift from his but he could see that she was fighting with herself and whether to support him or cut him down.  He made the choice for her and dropped his eyes to the table.  If he let her think she won the battle he had a chance of winning the war and he hated himself for it.

 

“I think,” Red said hesitantly, “we should continue this discussion later.  I’m sure you’re all hungry and would probably like to rest.  We can come back after supper tonight.  Hopefully with cooler heads.”

 

Red looked pointedly at Will before turning her gaze to him.  He offered her nothing in return.  As the others stood and made their way out he stayed seated, as did Emma.  She waved off both Red and Granny as they bent down to talk to her.  No one stopped to talk to him.  When the door closed behind Pinocchio he waited, lips pressed tightly together.  He had made his position clear.

 

“What are you doing Killian?” Emma asked tiredly.

 

“That witch has to pay,” he growled. “I won’t rest until she has.”

 

“Is that why you’re sleeping out in that tent?  Plotting with Will?” She glared at him.

 

“No,” he said shortly.  He stared at her for a moment before expelling a harsh breath and dropping his head into his hands, “I’m not sleeping at all.”

 

“Oh, Killian.”

 

He heard Emma stand quickly, her chair scraping noisily across the floor.  Her footsteps were quick and light as she walked towards him.  As she sat on the edge of the table she jostled his elbow and said a quiet apology.  Then her fingers were combing gently through his hair, causing weary tears to gather in his eyes and his throat to close up unexpectedly.

 

“I keep expecting him to come strolling through the door asking what the hell we’re going to do about the draft in this place,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to hold out if he spoke any louder.

 

“That’s why you’re out there?  Not because of something else?”

 

Her hand trembled slightly on his scalp.  He wrapped his right arm around her waist as he tugged her closer to him.  His eyes closed and only a few tears slipped out.

 

“I assure you, Swan, you are the only thing keeping the ghosts at bay when I’m awake and in this place,” he felt her stiffen in his grasp, correctly guessing what she wasn’t asking.  He took a steadying breath, “but not even your comfort can stop them from haunting my dreams.”

 

“You’re still not sleeping though,” she said in soft accusation.

 

“I manage an hour or two, love,” he said squeezing her side gently. “More than enough to keep my wits about me.”

 

“The thing is I don’t think you are, sailor” Emma’s voice was teasing but he could hear the undercurrent of concern.

 

Killian leaned back to look up at her and saw worry creasing her brow.  With his free hand he reached up and ran his thumb lightly across her bottom lip, nudging one corner up into a smile.  She humored him by lifting the other side into a full smile but he knew her heart wasn’t in it.

 

“Getting more sleep isn’t going to change my mind, love,” he sighed, resigned that their moment of peace was done.

 

“Not about going after Zelena, no, I know that but the Huntsman?  Regina?  Maybe you’ll think twice about how you’re treating them after a full night’s sleep,” Emma said tightly.

 

“And how am I treating them, Swan?” He asked sitting back, pulling away from her and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“You’re treating them like- like,” she waved her hands at him as though trying to conjure the right word.

 

“Prisoners?  Because that’s what they are Emma,” Killian shoved back from the table and began to pace, “Regina should have been dealt with the moment your parents defeated her, not sent here where she could continue to plot her revenge.  As a direct result of their lenience Zelena was able to take advantage of the circumstances and put herself exactly where she wanted to be, murdering hundreds of innocent people, razing villages, destroying countless lives.  Now Regina is once again being shown mercy and I can’t help but feel that we shall be the ones to pay the price.  She should have been left in that tower and the Huntsman should have been questioned thoroughly by someone without a history with him.”

 

“You don’t trust me.”

 

Emma’s blunt words stopped him in his tracks.  He turned to face her in disbelief.

 

“What?”

 

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Emma said in an unsteady voice. “You don’t trust my judgement.”

 

“Of course I trust you, Emma,” he said angrily.  Taking a deep breath he crossed to her and grabbed her hands, which were fisted at her sides, “You are the one bloody thing I trust right now, even more so than myself.  It’s them I don’t trust.  Zelena has let them live and we need to know why.”

 

“Then why are you fighting me so hard on this?  We’ll find out what Zelena has planned but not through intimidation and torture-”

 

“I said I didn’t agree with torturing them, Swan,” he growled stepping back.

 

“Maybe, but for how long?  What lengths are you willing to go to just to get some answers?” She planted her hands on her hips, eyes flashing as she questioned him. “How long before frustration and anger takes over and you use a well placed punch to try to loosen the Huntsman’s lips?”

 

“It sounds to me like you’re the one with the trust issues, love, not me,” Killian said quietly, stunned that she thought so little of his control.

 

“What?  No, Killian, that’s not what I meant.”

 

“I think it’s exactly what you meant,” he squared his shoulders but couldn’t bring his eyes to meet hers, fixing them on a point just beyond her shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me I’d like to see if Granny has any news of Balliolshire.”

 

“Killian-”

 

Without waiting to hear her platitudes he walked out of the room.  He could still hear her calling after him in a pained voice.  It took everything he had to not turn right back around, gather her in his arms and lose himself in her touch but his hurt at her mistrust was palpable.  Focusing on the sound of his boot heels pounding against the stone floor he took measured steps down the corridors until he practically hurled himself through the front doors of the palace into the bright sunshine and warm breeze of late summer.  Yet the foreboding spires and desolate courtyard of the palace offered none of the comfort of relief he sought.  His feet kept moving, leading him out the front gate and taking him into the woods where he finally felt he could breathe.

 

“You know she has a plan, right?”

 

Killian dropped his head in annoyance.  Emma must have known he wouldn’t talk to her but to send Pinocchio in her stead was almost an insult.

 

“When someone leaves on their own it’s usually seen as a sign that they wish to remain alone.  Unless of course you were sent after me to prevent me from doing anything rash,” he turned to face Pinocchio, “The trees have yet to earn my ire, however, so you can return to the palace and report that all is well.”

 

Pinocchio waved off his sarcastic remark and approached him, “Emma wants Regina to trust her enough to share what she hasn’t already.  She knows there’s something that woman is hiding and thinks playing nice will get her what she wants.”

 

Killian’s jaw nearly dropped in surprise.  He had never heard Pinocchio sound so disdainful before and never in a tone that was anything less than in admiration of Emma.

 

“I’m guessing you don’t approve,” he said slowly, realizing Pinocchio had never made his sentiments about their prisoners clear.

 

“If letting Emma try to befriend the Evil Queen keeps her occupied then I don’t give a damn what she does,” Pinocchio’s eyes flashed. “It just gives us a better chance at talking to the Huntsman unimpeded.”

 

“The Huntsman?” Killian asked confused.

 

“Regina might know something that could help us but there’s no doubt the Huntsman will.  He was with Regina when she was after Queen Snow and he somehow curried enough favor with Zelena to not only stay alive but remain by her side through it all.  He knows something even if he doesn’t realize it and Red is too soft to ask him what,” Pinocchio sneered.

 

“I’m all for getting answers, mate, but you’re starting to sound a lot like Will.  I wasn’t lying, I won’t torture the man to get him to talk,” Killian said uneasily.

 

“No, but you will ask him the questions Red won’t.  You said it earlier, he’s a dead man, we just need to take advantage of what he knows before Zelena crushes his heart,” Pinocchio said matter of factly.

 

“What’s brought this on?  I expect this callousness from Will, even from myself, but you?”

 

“I told you about my father.  Do I need any more reason than that?” Pinocchio asked, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

 

“No, I suppose not,” Killian answered carefully. “What do you propose then?  He’s guarded at all times and only Red has leave to see him.  I’m quite certain Emma won’t allow me anywhere near his room after the… discussion we just had.”

 

“Leave that part to me,” Pinocchio smiled, but it was a cold thing. “Come back to the palace after you’ve said goodnight to Emma and she’s seen you leaving for your tent.”

 

“If she’s forgiven me by then,” Killian muttered.

 

“She will, she hasn’t been sleeping very well since you joined Will,” Pinocchio said casually, ignoring Killian’s wince that he’d caused Emma any discomfort. “She’ll jump at the chance to make things okay between you two.”

 

“Perhaps I should go back to our chamber,” Killian said uncomfortably, willing to sacrifice his few hours rest in order for Emma to be able to.

 

“No,” Pinocchio said quickly. “She’ll either know something is going on or she won’t let you out of her sight and you’re the one we need.”

 

“Why me?  Will is just as determined to get answers as I am.  Or why not you?  You’re certainly making it harder than it needs to be if you’ll have easier access to the Huntsman than I will.”

 

“You’re the least likely to use your fists to get answers,” Pinocchio said with a shrug. “Will’s temper is tenuous at best and I don’t trust myself not to kill the man on sight.  He was there when the Quee- when Zelena killed my father.  He was the one who tortured him first.”

 

“He was under Zelena’s control,” Killian pointed out.

 

“And yet it was still him that wielded the knife,” Pinocchio said harshly.

 

“How do you know it was him?”

 

“I found out all I could about my father’s death when I was on my own.  Not even Red or Emma know exactly what happened,” Pinocchio’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “They don’t need to.”

 

Pinocchio dropped his head and Killian felt an upwelling of sympathy.

 

“What do you need me to do?” He asked quietly.

 

“I’m set to guard the Huntsman’s room tonight with Sleepy.  By the time you arrive Sleepy will have passed out and you’ll be able to walk right in.  With luck he’ll stay asleep for most of the night and you can find out everything you can in the meantime,” Pinocchio said confidently, looking at him once again.

 

“And if someone else were to walk by and hear me talking to the Huntsman?  Or notice that one of the supposed guards is asleep on duty?  What then?” Killian asked only voicing a select few of all the things that could go wrong.

 

“This is my third time on guard through the night and no one ventures to that part of the palace, even during the day.  As for Sleepy, they always warn against putting him on guard duty but no one really listens.  It’s not as odd as you would think to find him asleep at his post,” Pinocchio had a gleam in his eyes that Killian wasn’t sure he liked.

 

“Why now?  You say this is your third night but you’ve waited until now to make your move, why?”

 

Killian was ill at ease, not only because Pinocchio seemed to be acting irrationally.  Dorothy’s warnings against Zelena, Emma’s mistrust, and the constant jolting reminders that Thompson was dead were weighing upon him.  For a moment he wanted nothing more than to wake up in his bed in Balliolshire and discover that the past year had been nothing but a dream.  Then he remembered that for all the bad there had been some good, it had brought him to Emma and despite his fierce desire to have Thompson back he couldn’t reconcile losing Emma as the price.

 

“You think I haven’t thought about doing it already?  I have thought about doing it a thousand times and talked myself out of doing it every time.  But now?  We have the means, the opportunity, and this is the best chance we’ll have of getting some answers.  Everyone will be distracted by the newcomers, especially Red who is our biggest threat of being discovered,” Pinocchio rubbed his left knee absently, then looked at him with naked honesty. “I also knew that if I even stepped foot in that room I would lose my head and most likely lose myself.  It would have been everything Blue warned me against, but it needs to be done and I’m willing to become more puppet than man for answers.  Dorothy’s warnings reminded me that there are bigger things at risk than just a need for revenge.  Zelena tortured and killed my father along with so many others to secure her place as Regina.  She killed your father, Hewitt, Thompson and who knows who’s next in her mad grab for this happy ending.  We need to get answers from the Huntsman, no matter the means, for the greater good.  I can’t go another day sitting here not knowing what her next move might be and I know you can’t either.”

 

“No, I can’t,” Killian agreed in a low voice. “You’re right, we need to know what the Huntsman knows once and for all.  Expect me at his door an hour after moonrise.”

 

Pinocchio gave him a grim smile and a shallow nod before he turned on his heel and headed back in the direction of the palace.  Killian didn’t watch him leave.  After taking a moment to collect himself he continued walking, following the palace walls he could see in the distance.  He didn’t stop until he reached the mounds of dirt and wooden markers of their makeshift graveyard.  Thompson’s was the only one with a stone marker.  It had been conjured by Emma as her last respects and Killian sat beside it, facing away from the turned dirt that was just beginning to show signs of settling.

 

He stayed there, quiet and unmoving, for the rest of the day.  It did nothing to settle his thoughts, merely made him more determined to find the answers to the multitude of questions that plagued him.  Finally, when the sun dipped below the horizon and its warmth was cut to the quick by a strong breeze, he stood and closed his hand over Thompson’s marker until his harsh grip caused the stone to bite into his palm.  With a shaky breath he let go and walked back to the palace, his hand aching and the phrase ‘the greater good’ repeating in his thoughts.

 

Supper was a lively affair, filling the once desolate dining hall with the hum of happy conversation and music provided by a lute player and a singer that had been travelling with Granny.  It was the first time they’d had entertainment since Alan had died in the intitial raid on the palace.  Killian kept himself apart knowing that Emma was watching him, even perhaps waiting for him to approach her to discuss their argument.  He knew they should talk, needed to in fact, but he didn’t want to mar the first moment of lightness they’d had since they had been at Robin’s camp just as much as he didn’t want her to see the stirrings of guilt in his eyes for what he was planning to do.  Instead he engaged himself in a conversation with a couple of sailors that he was surprised to learn had come from the Jewel.  They had been instructed to join Granny by Liam as a gesture of good faith after they had landed in Balliolshire months before.  Their enthusiastic greeting before the meal had even started had made it easy for him to use it as an excuse to avoid Emma without seemingly doing so on purpose.

 

They lingered in the hall for hours, all of them unwilling to break the merriment they found themselves enjoying.  Even Killian found himself giving more genuine smiles than he had in a week, despite the guilt he felt settle in his gut in their wake.  One damper on his evening was when Red had stopped by at one point to tell him that it had been agreed meet in the morning to discuss what they were going to do.  He tried not to think about how he had been left out of making that decision, covering his annoyance with a smile and a word of thanks.  The other was his stubborn inclination to evade Emma.  Much to his chagrin she had appeared to sense his reluctance to talk and hadn’t approached him the entire evening.  He knew he had no right to feel slighted when it was what he wanted but when she left the hall with only a sad glance sent his way he wondered exactly what his avoidance had achieved.

 

By the time he left himself there were a number of people still lingering.  It was mostly those who had arrived with Granny, eager to revel in a roof over their heads. He was mildly surprised that Pinocchio had been right, the newcomers would likely be blamed for any noise during the night, allowing them some breathing room if the Huntsman chose to make things difficult.  Scowling to himself as he left the warm glow of the hall he wished his thoughts could be as unencumbered as the ones of those he’d left behind.

 

Despite the upswell in bodies inhabiting the palace he wasn’t entirely surprised by the lack of people he encountered as he made his way slowly to the second floor.  It was late and no one had reason to be there but he remained wary nonetheless.  His presence in the corridors wouldn’t arouse much suspicion but it would be noted and perhaps commented upon to those who hadn’t wanted to question the Huntsman.  He didn’t want to think about Emma’s compounded disappointment that not only had he gone behind her back but that she had to find out from Grumpy instead of admitting it to her himself.  Which he planned to do once his questions had been answered.

 

He reached the western corridor where the Huntsman was being held without incident.  As predicted Sleepy was slumped against the wall across from the Huntsman’s room, hands folded over his stomach and chin resting on his chest.  Pinocchio was standing guard next to the door tapping his sword against his wooden leg.  The sound of it did nothing to assuage Killian’s anxiousness about what they could discover from their interrogation.

 

“Any troubles?” Pinocchio asked with seeming nonchalance but the continual tap of his sword on his leg told Killian otherwise.

 

“Only the ones that rest solely in my mind,” Killian answered softly, stealing a glance at Sleepy.

 

“Don’t worry about him, a horde of knights in full armor could come clanging through here and he’d still be snoring away,” Pinocchio dropped his sword unceremoniously to the ground.  Ignoring Killian’s glare he pointed at Sleepy’s still form, “See?  Better than a sleeping curse.”

 

“Did it occur to you that someone might come to investigate that clamor, you ass?” Killian hissed indignantly. “Sleepy might not have been disturbed but there are plenty of others still on high alert, waiting for the slightest provocation.”

 

“And did it occur to you that it’s only us and Will who give a damn about the threats in this place anymore?  Or were you not at the same meeting as I was earlier today?” Pinocchio snapped back. “Their focus has shifted beyond these walls and I will not let it be our downfall.  If you have a problem with that then go and I’ll do what needs to be done.”

 

As Pinocchio bent down to pick up his sword Killian glanced down the corridor and then down at Sleepy’s still remarkably still prone form.  He had a retort ready but realized that what Pinocchio had said was true.  Emma, Red and Granny were concerned with the taking back of Misthaven while Robin and his men were focused on breaking Lord John and Lord Gisbourne hold on Sherwood.  Even Lancelot and Dorothy’s concerns were larger in scope.  The last of his lingering doubts fell away as he realized what they were doing would benefit them all beyond simply learning what was to come.

 

“No, you’re right,” Killian said, giving Pinocchio’s surprised look a wry grin. “Do you have a signal in mind in case someone does come wandering down this corridor?”

 

“Even if I did it wouldn’t matter.  Emma had to put some kind of silencing spell on the door after one of Grumpy’s watches.”

 

Pinocchio rolled his eyes at him and Killian had to hold back a snort of laughter.  The levity of the moment broke apart the tension between them.

 

“I better be quick about it then.”

 

With a nod from Pinocchio he opened the Huntsman’s door and quickly slid inside the darkened room.  As soon as he pulled the door shut behind him he could hear nothing aside from the quiet breathing of the room’s sole occupant.  The near silence was oppressive in a way Killian could only think of as though a giant had wrapped a hand around his head, not quite squeezing but muffling all his senses at once.  He idly wondered if the Huntsman would be willing to talk if only to keep the silence at bay.

 

“I had wondered how long it would be before someone other than Red came to talk,” the Huntsman said pleasantly as a match struck and the flare of light lit up his face as he moved the flame to a candle.  As he blew out the match he looked Killian over, “I wasn’t expecting you though.”

 

“You’ve known Red for a long time now?” Killian asked, ignoring the Huntsman’s observation.

 

“I knew her a lifetime ago,” the Huntsman stated without emotion.  His gaze shifted to a point in front of him, “She’s forbidden me from telling you anything about what she plans to do.  I’ve said as much to Red no matter how much she thinks her kindness will change that.”

 

“You’ve been by her side for years,” Killian said pressingly. “Surely there’s something you can tell me that Zelena thought was nothing of consequence at the time.”

 

“I didn’t even know it was anyone other than the Evil Queen all these years,” the Huntsman said frantically, his accent growing thick in his distress. “I can’t be of any help to you.”

 

“You can if you’d try to think of a way to help us and stop wallowing in self pity for more than a moment.  I’m sure you’re well aware that you’re living on borrowed time now,” Killian said harshly.

 

“I’ve been living on borrowed time for longer than you’ve been alive I’d wager,” the Huntsman’s eyes flashed. “Have you ever had your heart ripped out of your chest and yet still lived?  Of course not, Your Highness.  You have no idea what it is to be a puppet to someone else’s whims.  Your friend Thompson?  He’s the lucky one.”

 

“He’s dead,” Killian growled.

 

“I know.”

 

“And a better man than you.”

 

“Perhaps,” the Huntsman shrugged and then looked at him straight in the eye, “but perhaps not.  After all, we both lost our hearts protecting someone far more important than ourselves.”

 

The Huntsman’s words brought Killian up short.  He didn’t know how the Huntsman had lost his heart and he hadn’t cared.  Yet the Huntsman seemed to be implying he knew exactly how Thompson had lost his, had perhaps even been there when it had happened.  His desire to know exactly how long Thompson had suffered and his need to know what the future held for those left alive were warring within him.

 

“You were there?” Killian breathed knowing his voice would break if he spoke any louder.

 

“I was.  She tried to get him to turn on you by choice first, if that’s any consolation,” the Huntsman answered sympathetically. “Even if she had no intention of letting him leave with his heart still in his chest.”

 

“I-” Killian didn’t know how to respond to that.  His thoughts were all in a snarl when it came to the Thompson he knew and the one he’d discovered only moments before his death.  In a desperate attempt at gathering his wits he instead tried to refocus on his original purpose of being there, “The Dagger, has Zelena found it?”

 

“She was never truly interested in finding it,” the Huntsman said, skirting around answering the question directly. “It was a way to get the Princess out of Arendelle.  She was too well protected and beginning to truly master her magic there.  The Queen didn’t want that.”

 

Killian nodded slowly.  His thoughts were beginning to settle as he mulled over the Huntsman’s words.

 

“What of the Dark One?”

 

“Still in his cell, where she intends to keep him,” the Huntsman said emphatically.

 

Killian thought he knew what the Huntsman was trying to do and asked, “What of this envoy she’s sent to my kingdom?”

 

“A man that arrived at Queen Snow’s castle within a day of our taking of it.  He’s privy to even more of her secrets than I am and she’s entrusted him with tasks over the years that-” the Huntsman cut off with a choking sound.  After a moment of struggle he took a deep breath, “I’ve only heard her address him by a single name despite all the ones he uses as he goes about the realm.  Walsh, a singular name I’ve never heard the likes of before and the reason it resonated after learning it many years ago.”

 

His suspicions were confirmed with the Huntsman’s answer and subsequent choking fit.  The Huntsman had made the decision to help him however he could by subverting whatever Zelena had done to him.  He couldn’t say what the witch planned to do but he could possibly tell Killian what she had already achieved.

 

“How long has she known that Captain Swan was truly the Lost Princess of Misthaven?” He asked going back what he hoped was far enough for relevant answers.

 

“Since the moment she raised her flag and set her sights on ships flying the Queen’s colors.  Her father trusted one of his cellmates far too much when the Queen first imprisoned him.  He’s much more cautious now,” the Huntsman nodded as he answered, as though encouraging Killian’s line of questions.

 

“And her magic?”

 

“The Dark One informed her of that when the Princess’ ship could not be captured or sunk.  He laughed, seemingly pleased, as he told her,” the Huntsman smiled. “She was in a fit state for a week after that.”

 

Killian smiled fleetingly but he realized even with the answers the Huntsman was providing he was no closer to learning anything of value.

 

“She wears a jewel,” the Huntsman said abruptly, as though sensing Killian’s dismay. “A grand emerald that I’d never seen before her retaking of the kingdom and have yet to see her go without in the years since.  The Queen was fond of jewels and baubles before but never so attached to them that she would wear the same piece more than once.”

 

He stared at the Huntsman disbelievingly.  Of all the useful information the Huntsman likely knew about Zelena he had chosen to share one that was of no use at all.

 

“Look, mate, I don’t have a lot of time and I’m frankly not interested in the treasure around another person’s neck.  I only acted the part of a pirate to save my skin, I’ve not actually become one,” Killian scoffed, staring hard at the Huntsman.

 

“You don’t understand, there’s something more-” the Huntsman cut himself off abruptly again but instead of choking on his words all the animation drained from his face as did the life from his eyes.

 

“Huntsman?”

 

“That’s quite enough of that, I think.”

 

It was still the Huntsman’s accented voice, devoid of any feeling or inflection, and yet Killian knew that the words were no longer his.  Zelena was in control.

 

“I’ve learned a substantial amount already,” he said calmly.

 

“But not what you really want to know,” her words fell flat from the Huntsman’s mouth but Killian could almost hear the taunting lilt she was most likely using.

 

“Inconvenient but not terribly upsetting.  We’ll find a way to stop you regardless,” Killian said with a smirk.

 

“You can’t stop me when you have no idea what’s coming.  Look at the unfortunate business with the man whose heart I crushed.  You had no idea that anything was wrong, even when I thought he had given you more than enough clues to figure it out.  Although, I must admit your infatuation with the Savior helped,” the Huntsman winked, it was the only part of his face that moved and the effect was chilling.

 

“Shut up,” Killian growled.

 

“Oh, did I hit a sore spot?  I bet you’ve been wallowing in your pain, trying helplessly to figure out where you went wrong, how you could have saved your pathetic friend’s life.  He tried to fight me but a careful squeeze of his heart here or there-” the Huntsman winced as life briefly flared back into his eyes then dimmed as his features smoothed out once again, “-well, it forced him right back in line.  Even killing his precious love barely tapped into his need to fight me, so well had I brought him to heel by then.”

 

Killian was shaking with fury.  The Huntsman remained impassive before him.  He didn’t know how much Zelena could see through the man’s eyes or hear through his ears but he didn’t care.  With quick precision he brought his sword to the Huntsman’s throat.

 

“Enough, witch!”

 

“You think you can hurt me through him?  Go ahead, you’ll just be saving me the trouble of crushing his heart.  Not to mention the mess,” the Huntsman’s head tilted back, giving him better access. “What will the Savior think of you?  Killing a man while she sleeps blissfully unaware in the bed you should be sharing.  Pity you haven’t been there to warm it for her.”

 

“What did you say?” Killian’s grip faltered.

 

The Huntsman’s head dropped forward again, “Did you really think mirrors were my only way of spying on people.  My spies are always circling, through every realm, in every unwatched corner and you, dear Prince, have learned nothing that will stop me from getting my happy ending.  Which will be very soon, indeed!”

 

Without warning the Huntsman seized up, terrible pain contorting his features as his hands flew to his chest.  Before Killian could do more than lift his hand to attempt grab him the Huntsman fell to the floor, dead.

 

Killian stared blankly at the body.  He was trying to furiously reconcile what he had heard into something he could feasibly use but all he could latch onto was the indisputable fact that there was a spy amongst them.  No one was above suspicion, except perhaps one and she could not know at all costs.  There was no choice, he had to stop Zelena and he had to do it alone.

 

He walked over to the door and wrenched it open.  Pinocchio jumped to attention from where he had been leaning against the far wall.

 

“What?  Did you find out anything?” He tried to peer around Killian through the doorway that he had left open.

 

“Nothing of consequence, and the Huntsman was still killed over it,” Killian said grimly, his voice wavering as he tried to keep Pinocchio from guessing otherwise hoping he would mistake it for being upset at the turn of events.

 

“Dead?  How?” Pinocchio blanched and looked at him with wide, shocked eyes.

 

“Zelena crushed his heart when he started talking about more than his regrets.  She must have been listening to his words every time someone came to talk to him,” he sighed, dragging his hand over his face in feigned exhaustion. “We need to wake the others.  Alert them to what has happened and discuss what to do now.”

 

“I’ll get Granny and Red,” Pinocchio said nodding.  He turned and kicked Sleepy’s foot.  The dwarf woke instantly, if not a bit guiltily, “Go, wake Robin and Roland tell them the Huntsman is dead and to meet us here.”

 

“Wake Will Scarlet as well,” Killian added and turned to Pinocchio, “I’ll get Emma.”

 

Pinocchio nodded at him and turned to follow Sleepy who had taken off in a lumbering run down the corridor.  Killian waited until they were out of sight before heading in the opposite direction, towards the nearest servant’s stairwell.  Instead of heading up to the third floor when he reached it he spiraled down to the first and slipped unseen out of the palace.  He hoped in the bustle and confusion that his absence wouldn’t be noted at first, especially when the others would have to wake Emma themselves.  All he needed was a head start.

 

As he entered the stables and found it empty of any guard or stable hand he was once again thankful for the distraction Granny’s group had provided.  He quickly saddled the horse in the first stall, leading it quickly and quietly through the courtyard, sticking to the shadows, grateful the moon was waning back to nothing.  The moment he was outside the palace walls he mounted the horse, a hearty stallion that would serve his purpose even with the lateness of the hour.  With one last look at the palace he spurred the horse forward into a full gallop with a singular destination in mind: Queen Snow’s castle.


	21. Into the Fire

Killian was back, not exactly where everything had started, but where he felt everything had been set in motion, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.  Misthaven’s port looked exactly the same as it had the year before.  The same merchants peddling their wares, the same taverns each serving what they claimed was the best stew or ale to be found, the same people moving about their lives blissfully unaware that their Queen was far worse than they already suspected her to be.

 

“Can I get you another drink, sir?  Or perhaps something else to whet your appetite?” The barmaid leaned over the table, batting her eyelashes at him as she used her arms to push her breasts together suggestively.

 

“Just the rum will do,” he answered shortly.

 

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” she said with a coquettish smile as she stood, grabbing his empty mug and sauntering back to the bar.

 

When she returned with his rum she tried to catch his attention once more but he sent her off with nothing more than a grunt of thanks and the instruction to keep his mug from emptying.  Killian scanned the faces in the room with a scowl on his face.  Since his arrival early that morning he hadn’t dared to venture further than to the tavern he was currently ensconced in.  He saw no point in taking even more unwarranted risks than he already was.

 

It had taken him over a week to reach the portside village.  He had ridden nonstop from the palace of Regina’s exile, forcing his mounts to near breaking point before exchanging them and continuing on.  Having left the palace without any gold or provisions he’d continued to trade down, earning a few extra coin for choosing a lesser steed and exchanging quality tack and saddles until he arrived with an old, greying mare and nothing more than a frayed rope to guide her.  What money he’d earned from her sale had gone straight into securing his room at the tavern with enough left over to keep him in rum and food for the time being.

 

Killian was exhausted.  He had slept mostly in the saddle, only stopping once or twice to give into the need to sleep for more than an hour or two.  His haste had not only been due to his need to reach Zelena before her spies alerted her to his whereabouts.  It hadn’t been long after he had left the palace that he had spied the first wanted poster with his face on it.  They were still using his royal portrait with hair pulled back into a queue and a clean shaven face but he knew an observant villager would be able to discern who he was in a heartbeat.  Time and suspicion of others had been working against him.

 

It was good fortune that his beard grew quickly.  By the time he reached his destination his beard was full, a lighter brown than the hair on his head with a curious peppering of red and grey hairs alike.  With the scar across his cheek, his wild, unkempt hair, and a beard that concealed the lower half of his face he was able to slip through the town unrecognized.  Even when he sold the mare to a man as he stood smack dab next to his wanted poster he had been nothing more than an open palm seeking what gold he could.  Yet, for all that, he had quickly gone to the inn he’d stayed at nearly a year previous and remained there.

 

He was two thirds of the way through his third mug of rum when he felt the point of a knife at the small of his back.  He was armed, his sword was at his side, but he knew that any move he made toward it wouldn’t end well for him.  He was too deep into his cups and his movements had already been sluggish from his exhaustion to probably do nothing more than fumble with his sword before dropping it completely..

 

“Whatever you’re looking for, mate, I’m afraid I don’t have it.  The last of my gold went towards this mug of rum in my hand.  Which is unfortunate as the quality leaves much to be desired,” he drawled, the spirits dangerously loosening his tongue.

 

“I’ve found what I’m looking for,” the voice was too low and quiet for him to determine anything about its owner.

 

He set his mug carefully down on the table and placed his hands palms down on either side of it, “And what might that be?”

 

“Something you took from me.  Now stand up,” the knife dug into his back, urging him to follow orders.

 

Still he hesitated, “I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

 

“Stand. Up.  I won’t tell you again”

 

With a quiet sigh Killian did as he was told.  He knew it would be easier to convince whoever was behind him of their mistake if he complied and confronted them face to face.

 

His unknown accuser led him through the tavern by his elbow, knife moved to his side, and yet still behind him.  They were shorter than him, but strong, judging by the painful grip on his elbow.  Without any attention given to them they moved up to the second floor where the rooms for let were.  He idly wondered how the person leading him had already discerned which room was his. As they entered it, him still in front, he was surprised to find it hadn’t been ransacked by the person behind him, looking for whatever it was he was meant to have stolen.

 

He felt a light tug on his elbow as his accuser kicked the door shut behind them.  The movement wasn’t enough to dislodge their grip completely but it was enough to give Killian the leverage to wrench his arm out of their grasp and spin around to face them.  Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of seeing Emma’s face looking up at him angrily from underneath the hood of a roughspun woolen cloak.

 

“Emma?” He spoke barely above a whisper, his shock and disbelief at seeing her rendering him near speechless.

 

Of all scenarios and situations he’d thought about and dwelled on during his journey he had not allowed himself to think of Emma.  Not consciously at least.  He hadn’t wanted to imagine her disappointment, her worry, and most of all her anger and the betrayal she must have felt at his leaving.  However, when he was able to snatch a few precious moments of sleep her image was the only thing his tired mind would conjure up.  Sometimes he would see her crying inconsolably and others her usually smiling face would be contorted with rage.  The worst was of her lying dead at his feet, her heart crushed to dust by his own hand.

 

Killian had had that dream more often than the others, so much so that he had nearly convinced himself that it was more than just his guilt manifesting while he slept.  It had to be a vision of either what had passed or what was yet to come.  He had woken up after each one gasping, tears tracking their way down his cheeks, and his right hand clenched in a fist so tight it had ached for hours after.  By the time he had reached the inn and secured his room he had taken one look at the bed and headed to the tavern below.

 

He had turned to rum in hopes of drowning out the images that haunted him and the thoughts that plagued him.  Seeing Emma alive and whole before him filled him with a relief so profound he immediately pulled her into his arms, despite the fury etched on her face.

 

She was warm, if not stiff, in his arms.  Killian could smell the days of travel on her: a mixture of her sweat, the horse she must have ridden upon, and dirt all layered upon each other.  He knew he smelled no better, there had been little opportunity to bathe during his own journey and he hadn’t even considered wiping the dust from the road from his face before seeking out his rum.  None of it mattered when he could feel her breath puffing out against his neck and her heart beating steadily beneath his hands on her back.

 

With reluctance Killian released her and stepped back.  Emma remained where she was, hands clenched into fists, eyes fixed resolutely on a point over his shoulder.  Her hood had fallen down and he could see a few tendrils of her blonde hair that had fallen out of the queue that she had twisted it into.  He desperately wanted to tuck them behind her ear, see her eyes soften in tenderness, but he knew she wouldn’t be receptive.  Not until he explained himself.

 

“Swan.”

 

“You left,” Emma said, her eyes as hard and unfeeling as pieces of jade.

 

Her voice was cold, detached.  Killian had the feeling that if he had lifted his sword to try and deflect her words it would have shattered against the coldness of her tone.  In all the time he’d known her he had never heard her sound so devoid of emotion.  Suddenly a horrific thought occurred to him.

 

“Tell me something.  Something only we would know,” he said frantically.

 

“What?” Her icy facade slipped at his demand and a frown appeared.

 

He reached out and grabbed her by her upper arms in near desperation, “Please!”

 

She hesitated and his heart plummeted to his toes, then she peered closely into his eyes.  He saw the instant she realized what he was asking and why as her eyes filled with melancholic understanding.

 

“I gave you that ring-” she nodded towards his left hand, “- and you asked me why I made it.  I said it was to say thank you and then gave you a kiss.  You said you were welcome and kissed me right back.”

 

Killian loosened his grip and immediately crushed Emma to him in relief.  He had never breathed a word of that first kiss he’d shared with her to anyone.  Without a doubt he knew she would have kept it to herself as well.  His relief was short lived, however, as it occurred to him that while Emma was not an imposter she would still be more than able to give him that answer without having possession of her heart.

 

“It’s me, Killian,” she murmured reassuringly in his ear.  He shuddered in her arms and she held him tight against her, “I told you how I got the name Swan after Blackbeard stabbed you.  I was dumb enough to think you were too drunk to figure out I was Misthaven’s lost princess.  I knew you were trouble when I sat down across from you by that abandoned inn in Tuiscint.”

 

“That’s not something I’d know for certain, love,” he said as he let out a reluctant chuckle.

 

“No, but I thought you’d like to know anyway,” she said warmly.  When he pulled back her anger had vanished and was replaced with worry, “I still have my heart, too.”

 

“How did you-”

 

“After your father and Thompson how could I not know what was going through your mind?” Emma said softly.  Then her lips turned down into another frown, “At least you gave me a chance to figure it out this time instead of running immediately.”

 

“I promise I wasn’t running from you, Swan.  I had to leave before-”

 

“Before what?  Explaining what the hell happened with the Huntsman?  Why you lied to Pinocchio?  Why you didn’t even think about how it would feel for me to be woken up by him and told that not only was the Huntsman dead but you had disappeared almost immediately after it happened?  Do you have any idea what that looked like, Jones, because I had to spend too much time convincing people that you couldn’t have murdered the Huntsman instead of tracking your ass down.”

 

Emma’s anger had been stoked once more.  Killian knew he’d earned her tirade as he felt more than mere guilt settling on his shoulders.  In his haste to leave the palace and beat Zelena at her own game he hadn’t stopped to think about how the Huntsman’s death might be misconstrued.  He’d only told Pinocchio enough to allow him the chance to leave unobserved relying on the unmarked body and his word to be enough to convince the others in his absence.

 

He felt ashamed that he had violated not only Emma’s trust but the trust of others as well.  It didn’t matter who or how many had accused him of killing the Huntsman.  Leaving in the manner he had was tantamount to confessing guilty of the crime.  In a way he was.  If he hadn’t questioned the Huntsman there was every chance he could still be alive and of better use than what Killian had gotten out of him before his death.

 

“Swan, Emma, I’m sorry,” he sighed and hung his head. “I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“Obviously not,” she snapped.

 

“But you have to understand that I felt there was no other choice,” he plowed on hoping to make her see it how he had at the time. “Tommy lost his heart and I was none the wiser.  He didn’t have to die.  Hewitt didn’t have to die.  Hell, even my father might still be alive if I had known that something was wrong with the one person I thought I knew better than myself.  But I didn’t and countless amounts of people have paid for my ignorance.

 

“Zelena spoke to me, through the Huntsman, before she killed him.  She as good as told me there was a spy in the palace.  I couldn’t allow her to get the best of us, not again.”

 

“And you figured by leaving at the first opportunity was the way to do it?” Emma asked incredulously. “Killian you practically announced your plan the minute we realized you were gone!  If there was a spy at the palace they would have had no problem letting Zelena know you’d disappeared.  We had everyone looking for you and then fighting about why you left.  She has to know you’d show up at the palace eventually.  She’s probably just waiting for you to stroll in the front gate so she can take your heart and have one more weapon against me.  Dammit, Killian, you should have at least talked to _me_.”

 

“I know, Emma, and I’m sorry.  You have no idea how sorry I truly am but I couldn’t tell you.  I couldn’t risk losing you too.  Not after I’ve lost nearly everyone else.”

 

Emma’s expression quickly shifted from one of frustration and anger into awe tinged with something else he’d only seen fleetingly but with increased occurrence in the past weeks.  She smiled at him, her eyes soft.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Jones,” her smile quirked crookedly for a moment before she sobered, looking at him unblinkingly, “Turns out I’m pretty good at surviving.”

 

Killian stared at her dumbfounded before sweeping her into his arms and kissing her with everything he had.  She responded with equal fervor, clutching at his back, her nails digging into his skin even through the cloth of his shirt.

 

They broke apart, breathing hard.  Just as Killian was about to recapture Emma’s lips his mouth opened widely in a jaw cracking yawn.  Emma snorted in amusement and ducked her head into his shoulder, shaking with laughter.

 

“Apologies, Swan,” he mumbled into her hair, embarrassed.

 

“When was the last time you slept, sailor?” she asked, still giggling.

 

“Erm-” Killian closed his eyes and then reopened them immediately when he felt his body sway, “-I can’t say I remember, Swan.  I believe it might have been the night before we stormed Regina’s palace.”

 

“Oh, Killian,” Emma said brokenly as she tightened her arms around him. “Come on.”

 

She stepped away from him and grabbed his hand, leading him the short distance to the bed.  His exhaustion was so great he couldn’t even muster the strength to make a quip about her being so forward.  He dropped down onto the straw-stuffed mattress, the cheapest room available was all he could afford with the gold he’d gotten earlier that day, and sighed deeply.

 

“Where are you staying?” He mumbled tiredly as he toed off his boots.

 

Emma gave him a wry look, “Right here with you.  I can’t have you sneaking off on me again.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he said with a small grin as she pushed gently on his shoulder to get him to lie down.  He grasped her hand in his tightly as she went to move away, “But truly?  You’ll stay?”

 

“Yes,” she said softly. “Sleep.  I’ll be here the whole time.”

 

“Good.”

 

Killian closed his eyes, still grasping Emma’s hand in his, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

When he awoke he was aware of two things: the sun had the indecency of shining straight onto his face and he was alone.

 

“Emma?”

 

He sat up, blinking away the vestiges of sleep, as he surveyed the room.  It looked as though nothing had changed, no small signs that anyone other than him had been there.  Keeping his movements slow and purposeful, in order to stave off the panic that it had all been a dream, he bent to pull his boots on when the door opened.

 

“Oh, good, you’re awake.  I wasn’t sure when you would be so I brought up some bread and cheese but if you want something else I can go get it.”

 

Emma was smiling at him but he barely noticed it as he leapt from the bed and hugged her to him.

 

“Whoa there, Jones!” She yelped as she stumbled back from the force of his embrace. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

 

“Apologies, Swan,” Killian said as he released her and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.  He looked at her mostly to assure himself that she was truly there, “You weren’t here when I woke.”

 

“I thought you’d sleep a little longer,” she said with a small apologetic smile. “I was getting a little bored.”

 

“Bored?  How long was I asleep?”

 

He looked out the small window and noticed with a shock that the sun was long past its zenith, heading back down to the horizon.  Looking back at Emma she bit her lip against another smile.

 

“It’s been a couple of hours since the midday meal.  You slept through the night and barely moved when I got up this morning.  If it hadn’t been for your snoring I would have been more worried something was wrong,” she teased, but it was tinged with something like unease.

 

“But you were worried,” Killian pointed out.

 

Emma sighed, “I kinda have some good reasons to be worried about you, Killian, and it’s not like you aren’t worried about me.  Unless there’s some other reason you’ve been greeting me like you thought you’d never see me again.”

 

Killian let out a slow breath.  While he’d had a dreamless sleep the nightmares of him holding her crushed heart still haunted him.  For a moment he contemplated not telling her, seeing no need to worry her further, but then he realized that he didn’t want her to think the worst by coming up with her own conclusions for his behavior.

 

“I haven’t been sleeping as you well know,” he paused waiting for her to interject but she only waited patiently for him to continue. “At first it was the ghosts at the palace and my guilt that kept me awake but I was still able to acheive an hour or two.  Then when I left, when I ran, my nightmares changed into something truly terrible.  You died, night after night, by my hand.  It didn’t take long for sleep to lose its appeal.”

 

He gave her a careless shrug feeling anything but.

 

“After you moved out to that stupid tent with Will I didn’t sleep well but I wasn’t going to ask you to come back when I knew it upset you,” Emma began.  She took a deep breath before continuing, “When you left that’s when my nightmares started.  Sometimes it was my parents, or Red, or Pinocchio but mostly it was you leaving me behind, not looking back, forgetting me.”

 

“Emma, I could live for centuries and never forget you,” Killian held out his hand for her to take.  As soon as she did he drew her towards him, “I may have been a complete ass for leaving but you were never far from my thoughts, love.  Even when I tried not to think of you for my own sanity.”

 

“I was sending you to the madhouse then?” Emma asked peering up at him with a teasing smile.

 

“Swan, if you’re making jokes am I to assume that I’m at least partially forgiven?” He asked hopefully, squeezing her hand gently.

 

“Maybe,” she said, screwing her face into mock sternness. “I also want you to eat something and tell me everything that happened with the Huntsman.”

 

“Done,” Killian agreed easily. “I’d like to know what happened after I left as well.”

 

“Done,” Emma said with a nod.  She stepped back and wrinkled her nose, “First things first.  You need to wash up, you smell like you’ve been living in a stable.”

 

“That’s not that far from the truth,” he said with a chuckle. He sniffed himself delicately, “I’m surprised you saw fit to sleep beside me last night.”

 

“I’ve smelled worse,” she joked.  Then she shrugged and looked at him sincerely, “I didn’t want to spend one more night alone.”

 

Killian nearly rocked back on his heels at her soft confession.  He ducked his head and pressed a light kiss to her lips.

 

“Then I’ll endeavor to ensure that won’t happen while I live and breath, love.”

 

Emma gave him a radiant smile before wrinkling her nose again and practically shoving him towards the door.  He went reluctantly, his own smile wide and free, feeling far more like himself than he had since Thompson’s death.

 

After his cold, yet refreshing, wash he returned to the room and did as Emma asked.  She watched him eat and listened to him not quite ramble about what had happened with the Huntsman and the conclusions he had drawn from their conversation and his subsequent one with Zelena.  When he had told her everything he continued and spoke of his time on the road: the loneliness, the need to push himself to his limits, the thoughts that had plagued him and the dreams that had haunted him.  He told her everything.

 

In return she picked at his crumbs and told him of everything that had transpired after his disappearance.

 

It had taken only a half an hour for them to realize something was off.  When Emma hadn’t joined the others right away Pinocchio had been the one to wake her and tell her the basics of what he’d known.  They’d done a perfunctory search for him but knew he’d absconded completely.  Much to Emma’s annoyance, which she relayed to Killian by glaring at him as she spoke, it had taken three days for them to agree on a course of action.

 

Will and Little John had returned to Sherwood Forest to let their people know of the fight that would ensue and to give them the choice to join them or move into the palace.  Red and Granny had chosen to travel along the northern route of Misthaven’s borders to try and recruit others to join their cause.  Robin had remained behind with the rest to act as a guard to Regina and the other prisoners and as a point of contact for the others that had scattered to all points of the compass.

 

As for Emma and Pinocchio they had left as soon as possible to follow what trail remained of Killian’s flight from the palace.  Unfortunately due to the days that had passed they hadn’t gone far before they had lost any sign of him.  Emma and Pinocchio had parted ways at a crossroads, Pinocchio choosing his path by logic and Emma by feeling.  She had ridden nearly as hard as Killian had once she was on her own, spurring herself and her mount on with magic.  It was only through that and clever shortcuts she’d learned when she was first on the run that she had arrived in the port town half a day after Killian had.

 

“You covered a three day’s lead with magic and shortcuts?” Killian asked disbelieving.

 

“You stuck to the main roads,” Emma said smugly. “There are plenty of hunter’s paths and little known trails between villages that worked to my advantage.  Once I was sure where you were headed it was easy to navigate a faster route.”

 

“A horse isn’t a ship love,” Killian said amused and slightly awed. “How did you know where to find me?”

 

“Just a feeling,” she said with a self conscious shrug. “Pinocchio thought you’d head straight to the castle but I knew no matter how stupid you were behaving you wouldn’t be that suicidal.  I almost went with him anyway but just looking down that road felt wrong.  When I faced the one leading here it was like you had just dipped past the horizon, that if I hurried I’d see you cresting the next hill.  I couldn’t ignore it.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t, love.”

 

She finished her tale quickly.  In his exhaustion he hadn’t been as careful as he’d thought and Emma had been able to find where he had holed up easily.  The man who’d Killian had sold his horse to had been boasting in another tavern about the man he’d swindled and after a thinly veiled threat from Emma had told her where he’d seen Killian heading towards.  She also managed to swipe the man’s purse, telling Killian with a smile it was payback for the poor deal he’d gotten.

 

To Killian’s dismay he had begun to yawn even as his attention was fully captured by Emma’s tale.  It seemed that even with his long rest the night before his body was still working with low reserves.  Emma had given him a bemused smile every time he yawned and when she finished her story merely pushed him down to lay on the bed, combing her fingers through his hair even as he protested through heavy eyelids.  The last thing he remembered before succumbing to sleep was her quiet reassurance that she’d still be there when he woke.

 

The next two days passed in similar fashion.  Killian or Emma told the other what they hadn’t that first day: tiny details that might prove important, observations from their travels of the villages they’d passed through, the few people that had talked to, and ever more ludicrous ideas on how to take down Zelena without losing their hearts or their lives.  Sometimes they went down to the tavern but more often they took their meals in their room, the gold Emma had nicked from the horse buyer more than enough to cover the expense.  Then as night began its crawl towards dawn they would curl around each other in the bed, resigned to yet another fruitless day of planning absolutely nothing.

 

As much as having Emma back with him had assuaged some of his worry Killian still could not help feeling as though they were merely in the eye of the storm.  He knew that Zelena had not been making idle threats.  Whatever she had planned would transpire before they had their own solid plan in place, no matter how many allies they drummed up or time they foolishly thought they had.

 

At the end of their third day together he suggested that they go to the castle and confront Zelena once and for all.

 

“Killian, stop, think about it.  We can’t just storm in there and hope for the best!  We need to be smarter than that!”

 

“We can’t just sit around and think that a perfect opportunity will just fall in our laps either, Swan!  Zelena has no idea when we’re going to strike.  Even if she knew either one of us were here we’ve been holed up in this room long enough for her to send someone to kill us on the spot.  She hasn’t, which means we have a chance!”

 

“Are you insane?  That’s some of the most idiotic logic I think I’ve ever heard!  We might as well march through the front gates with trumpets blaring and bloody banners waving!”

 

“Bloody banners?” Killian felt his lips twitch despite his irritation. “I do believe you’ve been spending too much time with me, love.”

 

“Dammit, Killian,” Emma huffed but he could see her biting back a smile of her own. “This is serious.”

 

“Aye, it is, Swan, but you have to admit I have a point,” he pushed gently.

 

“Of course you have a point,” she said throwing up her hands. “I’m sorry if I don’t feel like walking straight into our deaths right now.”

 

“It would be less of a straight walk than a serpentine crawl through a back door,” Killian grabbed her hands.  He ducked his head to look at her straight on, “We’ve had days, months really, to come up with a better plan.  This may be our best shot.”

 

“What if it’s our only one?” She murmured back. “We could lose everything if we don’t do things right.”

 

“We’ll lose everything if we don’t even try.”

 

Emma sighed deeply and tipped her forehead to rest gently on his.  He knew in that moment that she would go along with his insane skeleton of a plan.  His only hope was that she would emerge victorious, no matter what his own fate would be.

 

They left early the next morning, well before the sun pierced the veil of night.  The walk to the castle along the main road took well over half a day from the port village.  For them, having decided to forego the usual route, it would take until night had fallen again to be in sight of the castle.  Killian left the path forging to Emma.  It may have been well over a decade since she’d stepped foot in the woods of her kingdom but he knew she remembered them well.  Her tiny gasps and involuntary smiles as they had left the village behind assured him of that.

 

Emma led them quietly, if not entirely quickly, through the forest.  She followed trails and streams that Killian would have overlooked otherwise, murmuring to him in a low voice how she had discovered them when she was younger and her mother had given into her demands of being taught what Snow had learned as a bandit.  Where Emma’s father had sharpened her sword fighting skills her mother had honed her instincts for survival, neither knowing how truly invaluable their indulgences to their daughter’s demands would be.

 

Around midday they stopped for a small meal and to rest.  Emma assured him that they were moving at a good pace.  She had to remind him that if they moved any faster they’d be exhausted by the time they reached the castle and they might have well just taken the road where they would have been spotted for all the good it would have done them.  Properly chastised he didn’t argue when she suggested they wait an hour before continuing on.  The delay would only improve their chances of remaining unseen as they approached the castle under the cover of darkness.

 

The sun had been below the horizon for an hour or so when they finally caught sight of the castle.  It was still a few hours until moonrise, what good the waning crescent would be to them remained to be seen.  As such there were plenty of torches lighting up the bridge leading to the castle and the courtyard that could be seen through the open gate.  The windows were ablaze with light, a far cheerier picture than when they had approached Regina’s palace despite the inherent danger they knew lied within.

 

Killian heard Emma’s breath hitch beside him several times before he realized she was beginning to spiral into a panic attack.

 

“Swan!” He hissed, putting himself in between her and the castle, blocking her view. “Swan.  Emma, love, look at me.  Come on, love, look at me.”

 

He could feel her whole body shaking under his hands when he placed them on her shoulders.  Her breathing was shallow, stuttered, and when she looked at him her eyes could barely hold his in her distress.

 

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can,” Killian said calmly taking exaggerated deep breaths, trying to hold her gaze as it darted about, hoping she’d copy him. “Emma, breathe with me.  Deep breaths, love. In and out.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.”

 

Slowly she did as he instructed taking deep, shuddering breaths in time with his.  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms hoping to soothe her further.  Finally she sagged against him, burying her face in his chest.

 

“Okay.  Alright, I’ve got you, love.  I’ve got you,” he crooned softly, stroking her hair as her breathing evened out.

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.

 

Killian tipped her chin back and said earnestly, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.  I think I’d be more worried if you hadn’t had a reaction of some kind at all.  I know that the moment I set eyes on my family’s castle I’ll shed a tear or two.”

 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Emma gave a weak laugh as she pushed away from him.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he said with a wink.  Then he regarded her seriously, “So, we’ve come this far.  Feel up to going a bit further?”

 

“Why not?  I mean, we did come all this way.”

 

“Then after you, Swan.  After all, it is your castle.”

 

Emma took a final deep breath before nodding and striding around him with purpose in her step.  Killian hurried to catch up, grasping her hand in his as she led the way to her former home.

 

Much like the night of their raid on Regina’s palace Emma brought them to a somewhat hidden side entrance.  She told him in a quiet whisper that she’d used it more often than not to sneak away from her lessons with the Blue Fairy.  In the years that had passed ivy had grown over the door and the lock appeared to be rusted shut.  With a quick shot of her magic the lock snapped in two and fell with a harsh thud to the ground.  Wincing apologetically Emma pushed open the door and they found themselves looking at a slightly overgrown garden, barely lit by the torches lining the castle walls.

 

They moved silently through the garden, passing a murky pond that had Killian wondering if Emma’s swans were still in residence or if they’d flown away when their owners had been unceremoniously replaced.  He kept his question to himself as they moved closer to the castle.  Unlike Regina’s palace they could see and hear guards moving about the grounds.  With Emma leading the way and through sheer luck they made it to a servant’s door without being seen, slipping in as quickly as possible.

 

With difficulty they moved through the castle.  There were guards and servants alike roaming the halls despite the lateness of the hour.  Both Killian and Emma had to use what knowledge they had of the castle’s layout to avoid being caught and made their way to where they believed Zelena to be.

 

“This has been too easy,” Emma breathed quietly.

 

They were pressed against the wall of the servant’s stairwell leading to the landing where the main bed chambers were.  It had been Emma’s idea to start there and Killian had agreed.  Zelena might have been wicked and cruel but she too had to sleep at some point.  Killian had confirmed that she had settled herself in Queen Snow’s former chambers and boasted about it often.

 

“I agree but we can’t turn back now.  All or nothing, Swan.”

 

Killian went to step onto the landing but found himself being surrounded suddenly by green tinted smoke.  Before he could blink, much less warn Emma, he found himself in the middle of the castle library staring at a large bubbling cauldron with Zelena standing behind it, smiling widely at him.  Emma’s string of curses next to him was his only hope that everything hadn’t gone completely sideways.

 

Zelena hadn’t bothered with the Regina glamour.  She was posturing proudly in a tight fitting black ensemble trimmed in feathers and dark crystals, a black pointed hat with a large brim sat atop her red hair, curls arranged to fall down one side where the ends brushed against a large glittering emerald at the base of her throat.  Something about it niggled at Killian’s memory but he was more intrigued by how the gem was nearly the same color as the witch’s skin.

 

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever join me,” Zelena trilled as wisps of steam curled around her. “Then again if you’d come any earlier I would have had to lock you in the dungeon until everything was ready.  Luckily for both of us your timing is impeccable.”

 

“You knew we were here,” Killian growled, not entirely surprised.

 

“Of course I did,” Zelena huffed and waved her hand behind her. “I told you my spies were watching.”

 

With a jolt Killian saw the server who had attended him the first night in the portside tavern come out from the shadows of the library.  He heard Emma gasp beside him as she recognized her was well.  Before either of them could say a word Zelena waved her hand again and the server was enveloped in smoke.  When it cleared a hideous winged monstrosity, looking horrifically like a large simian, was in her place.  It opened its wings wide and flew out the open doors leading to a balcony of some sorts, screeching as it went.  Killian watched it go with a sort of sick fascination.

 

“You’re a monster,” Emma croaked.

 

“I prefer wicked witch if you must call me something,” Zelena said with a bright white smile. “You’ll see soon just how wicked I can be.”

 

“What’s in the cauldron?” Killian demanded, unsheathing his sword and taking half a step in front of Emma. “Is this your grand plan?  To poison everyone in the kingdom?”

 

“Oh, it’s so much better than that,” Zelena’s eyes widened as her smile took on a deadly edge. “I’m finally going to get my happy ending.”

 

“By killing everyone?” Emma asked, her voice trembling.

 

“Not quite, Savior,” Zelena sneered. “I’m getting everything my dear sister had and more.  I am taking what is owed to me.”

 

“How?”

 

“This lovely concoction here isn’t a potion or a poison, my pretty,” Zelena began to circle the cauldron, running a hand lovingly around the rim. “It’s a curse, the Dark Curse.  One that will allow me to take what is mine without hiding behind a pitiful mask.  The Dark One said I couldn’t cast it, well more that he wouldn’t let me, but I’m proving him wrong.  I’m proving them all wrong.”

 

Zelena was standing in front of them, seemingly unconcerned about the sword Killian had unsheathed and pointed at her throat or Emma’s raised hands.

 

“And what will this curse do?” Killian asked, not because he was interested but to keep her talking as he madly tried to come up with a plan.

 

“Like I said, it will take me to my happy ending.  What happens to the rest of you makes no difference to me,” Zelena chuckled.

 

“You hate your sister that much?” Emma asked incredulously.

 

“That worthless worm was given everything!” Zelena shrieked, her gleeful facade slipping. “It should have been me.  I’m more powerful, smarter, more cunning and I was thrown away like a broken broom.  She got our mother, the crown, the Dark One on her side all because she was wanted.  I won’t be so easily cast aside, not this time and never again!”

 

Killian didn’t stop to think and lunged, thrusting his sword through Zelena’s stomach.  It slid cleanly through, a killing stroke to be sure.  To his horror she merely smiled at him as if he’d merely brushed her with a feather.

 

“You can’t kill me, not with such a paltry weapon,” Zelena scoffed, pulling the sword out in a casual manner before tossing it aside.

 

With a flick of her wrist Killian was sent flying.  He crashed into one of the tall bookcases and fell to the floor, heavy tomes raining down on him.  Aside from the ringing in his head he could hear Emma yelling his name but he was too dazed to answer back.  Shaking his head to clear it he tried to stand but only managed to push himself up a few inches before sinking back to the ground with a low groan.

 

He could still hear Emma crying out for him.  Her desperate pleas galvanized him to try to stand once more, despite the fierce ache at the base of his skull.  With great effort he stood, swaying dangerously on the spot, but under his own power.  What he saw when he looked towards Emma and Zelena nearly stopped his heart.

 

Zelena’s hand was buried deep in Emma’s chest.  Emma’s face was contorted in a rictus of pain, her eyes wide as tears streaked down her cheeks.

 

“No,” Killian grunted as he stumbled over books in his dizzy haste to reach them.

 

“When will you learn, Your Highness?  Love is weakness and it will only get someone killed,” Zelena sneered, the muscles in her forearm standing out as Emma cried out in pain.

 

“Stop!” Killian roared.

 

Suddenly it felt as though a large hand had wrapped around his throat, stopping him in his tracks.  He fought against the invisible vice that was squeezing ever tighter as he continued to struggle to reach Emma.  His eyes caught hers, tears running down his cheeks in pain and regret.  It was his fault they were in this position, both dying because of his impatience.

 

“Love… isn’t… weakness,” Emma gasped.

 

“What did you say?” Zelena turned back to Emma, her brows drawn down.

 

“Love isn’t weakness,” Emma repeated, stronger. “It’s strength.”

 

A wave of bright light erupted from her chest, flinging Zelena as cleanly across the room as she had done with him.  Immediately the pressure on his throat disappeared and he staggered to Emma’s side.  Without pause he crashed into her, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, anywhere he could reach as she ran her hands over his neck, his back, his head, each assuring themselves that the other was whole.

 

“Emma, are you alright, love?” He rasped, his throat feeling as if he’d swallowed broken glass.

 

“Me what about you?” She asked shakily.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he winced as a wave of dizziness overtook him. “In time.”

 

“I’ll do you one better.”

 

With a quick wave of her hand he felt immensely better.  He immediately felt guilty for her having to use her magic when she had just seemingly used a powerful amount of it.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Swan.  A few bumps and bruises aren’t worth expending even more of your magic,” he said softly, lifting his hand to rest over the place where he had seen Zelena’s only moments before.

 

“I’m pretty sure my magic isn’t like a barrel of rum, sailor.  I don’t think there’s a bottom,” she gave him a watery chuckle.

 

“I can fix that.”

 

They spun around to see Zelena standing over the cauldron.  Her hat was missing, her hair disheveled with a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth but otherwise looking unscathed from Emma throwing her across the library.  In her hand was a heart.  At least Killian thought it was, the pulsing organ was almost completely black with only a speck or two of vibrant red swirling in the darkness.

 

“Don’t!  You don’t have to do this!” Emma pleaded, her hand outstretched.

 

“Ah, ah, Savior,” Zelena squeezed the heart.  She eased her grip as Emma lowered her arm, “Nothing is going to stop me.  Not your magic or your pathetic pleading.  You know, I’ve always wondered how thin the line between love and hate is.  Guess we’ll find out.”

 

As quick as a snake strike Zelena crushed the heart.  It burst into a waterfall of ash that sifted between her fingers directly into the cauldron below.  With a giggle of delight she tipped her hand to deliver the rest of the ashes into the violently churning potion.  She dusted off her hands and gently caressed the emerald at her throat.

 

At the gesture things became suddenly clear to Killian.  Whatever the curse did, where ever it took them, or what horrors it had in store, Emma was the only one who would be able to break it.  Zelena had called her the Savior, the one that would return on her twenty-eighth birthday to save them all.  The Dark One’s prophecy was true and with a horrible sinking feeling he knew he’d have to play his part to ensure that it would come to pass.

 

As a cloying purple smoke began rising in a column from the cauldron Killian hauled Emma into his arms and kissed her soundly before pushing her away.  In Zelena’s distraction as she watched the curse unfold he sprinted around the cauldron and grabbed the emerald, tearing it from her throat.  Without pause he threw it towards Emma, a clumsy toss made with his left hand that had the jewel flying out of sight into the wreckage of where he’d been thrown earlier.

 

“You fool!  Do you think that will stop this curse?” Zelena shrieked.

 

Killian braced himself for the impact of her magic, holding his left arm over his head, but none came.  Instead he caught sight of a flash of metal out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time to watch a blade slice through his wrist, severing his hand from his arm.

 

Bellowing in pain he dropped to his knees as he clutched his profusely bleeding left arm to his chest.  White spots were dancing in front of his eyes as a dark shadow closed in from the sides.  He was faintly aware of a smaller, more insignificant pain blooming at his throat only to belatedly realize that Zelena was holding him upright, her knife drawing across his neck.

 

“No!”

 

Using what strength he had he focused on Emma.  She was posed with her hands in front of her, as though she were waiting for the opportune moment to use her magic.  The edge knife dug into his throat in response.

 

“Careful there, Savior.  You can’t stop the inevitable but you can stop me killing him.  Put those hands down,” Zelena goaded from behind him.

 

“Emma, the prophecy,” Killian choked out, as he tried to keep her in focus. “Go, love, you’ve got to go.”

 

“I can’t,” Emma sobbed, lowering her hands.

 

“That’s right, you can’t.  Nothing can stop me now,” Zelena crowed.

 

The thick purple smoke was pouring over the sides of the cauldron.  Somehow he knew Emma only had moments to decide.

 

“You can stop her, Swan.  You can save us all, it’s fate, but you have to go.  You’ll find us, you’ll find me again,” he gasped.

 

“Killian…”

 

“Go now, Emma!  Go!”

 

He saw her face screw up in anguish as he used the last of his strength to twist Zelena’s arm away from his neck.  Zelena cried out in pain as she dropped the knife and then in fury as Emma was becoming enveloped in white smoke.  Despite his pain and his heart breaking he couldn’t help but feel proud at the sight.  She had somehow learned how to magically transport herself as she had wanted to months ago.

 

Before she disappeared completely he called out.  He had wanted to wait, to tell her when they were both happy and safe, but he didn’t want her to leave, to possibly never see him again without knowing.

 

“I love you.”

 

He thought he heard her cry out to him but she was gone.  No trace remained as the purple smoke of the curse crept across the floor towards him at an alarming rate.  Zelena stood over him, rage sparking in her eyes as he collapsed to the floor and fell into the yawning darkness that awaited him.

  


~*~

  


She landed roughly on her hands and knees.  It didn’t matter if she was safe or not.  Only one thing mattered: getting back to Killian no matter the cost.  He had told her he loved her, in that impossible moment before she had disappeared, he deserved to hear her say it back.

 

The clatter of footsteps broke through her spiraling thoughts as she jumped to her feet, ready to fight off whoever was approaching.  She was stunned to see Elsa running towards her.  As she looked around she realized she was in the study where she had practiced her magic in Arendelle’s castle.  In her distress she had transported herself to the last place she had felt truly safe, since Killian’s arms were no longer an option.

 

“Emma!  What are you doing here?  What happened?” Elsa asked as she came to a stop in front of her.

 

“A curse,” she said shakily, a few tears falling from her eyes.  She looked past Elsa, out the window that faced south, towards her kingdom, “But I’ll find him.  I will always find him.”

* * *

End Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the end of A Crown and A Captain but the sequel The Savior and The Scoundrel is already well underway on ff . net and tumblr. I'll begin posting it here within the next day or two but if you can't wait I have the same username for both.


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